


Just a Whisper in the Dark

by missparker



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Abnormal culture (Sanctuary), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fusion, Alternate Universe - Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer References, Demons, Gen, Slayer Scythe, Slayer-Watcher Relationship, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-21 13:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11945163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missparker/pseuds/missparker
Summary: This particular species had a terrible sense of self-preservation - most boasted that they did not fear Helen Magnus, that they could take her in any fight. Of course, in 157 years, no one ever had, but that never seemed to occur to them.Vampires were a stupid lot.





	Just a Whisper in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> um, tagging this was a real adventure. also i've been writing this for FOUR YEARS. so, enjoy 2.5 people who will want to read this super niche work about two long gone shows. heart emoji.

_When we walk into the sun_  
_Or burn below for what we've done_  
_Will you still call out for me_  
_Turn to light or fade to black_  
_Don't look back, no you don't look back_  
_At what you might not want to see_

**Save Part of Yourself - Brandi Carlile**

*

It had been raining steadily all day but now, finally, it was only drizzling - like the weather and the setting sun were issuing an invitation to her. She’d accepted and went out in all her leather to keep dry while running through puddles and under dripping awnings. She almost always started in the most derelict quarter of Old City. It was less populated with people but it was always heavily populated with abnormals - demonic and otherwise. If she hit the streets just after the sun set, often she could catch them emerging from their dens, hungry and desperate. 

She headed down the narrow alley behind Monument street. She often found nests in the old, abandoned glass factory. Every time she cleaned it out, in a few months, something else found it and set up shop. Sometimes it was a docile creature that she could talk into coming home with her - giving room and board to society’s most misunderstood creatures was her day job and she never forgot her ultimate mission - the Sanctuary.

She felt a distinct twinge, centered in her abdomen. It made the hair on her arms and the back of her neck prickle and it sent her adrenaline production into overdrive. 

Her night job was a little different. She straightened out her arm and let the smooth, wooden stake slip from her sleeve into her hand. She heard the dragging of wooden boards against wet concrete and then, from the burnt out hole that opened up from the factory into the alley, something emerged. 

Her hand tightened, but she did not move. She waited until he was upright and headed toward the street before she stepped out of the shadows and into his line of sight. He was obviously young and new. He already had the demon squatting on his face. Young ones always had trouble controlling that when they were hungry. Perhaps his youth would help her to sway him and she could bring him home with her, fatten him up on cow’s blood, put him to work as a productive, albeit nocturnal, member of society.

“Hungry?” she asked. 

He smiled, cocky and confident.

“You have no idea,” he said. 

So he was new enough to not know who she was. Most permanent abnormal residents of this city knew her by sight and if not that, by reputation. This particular species had a terrible sense of self-preservation - most boasted that they did not fear Helen Magnus, that they could take her in any fight. Of course, in 157 years, no one ever had, but that never seemed to occur to them.

Vampires were a stupid lot.

“I give everyone the same offer,” she said. “Come with me. In exchange for not killing any human ever again, all your needs will be met. You’ll have a home, a family, a job. You can live quite happily at the Sanctuary, I assure you.”

“Or I could just eat you now,” he said, shrugging. 

“Are you sure? Consider carefully,” she warned. He bared his fangs and lunged for her. 

She rolled her eyes and raised her stake.

oooo

She returned home just after 4:00, alone and itchy with vampire dust. She stuck her head in Ashley’s room to make sure her daughter was safe at home and, satisfied, went to her rooms to shower off the filth and possibly stitch up the gash on her leg where one of her opponents had managed to claw through her supple armor with a well placed swipe. Perhaps it had already stopped oozing blood. At any rate, by morning, it would be gone.

She did so hate to lose a good pair of leather pants. 

Outside her door, a sentry waited.

“Come on,” he grunted. “Let’s go take a look at that leg.”

“It’s fine,” she said. 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He didn’t leave much room for argument. 

She relented, followed him into the elevator and they rode down to the lab. 

“How many?” he asked. 

“Seven,” she said. “Three at once.”

“Anything other than the leg?”

“No,” she said. He stared at her. “Kick to the ribs.”

“I don’t like you going out alone,” he said. 

“Yes, you’ve said that once every 24 hours for the last 50 years, but slaying is a solitary occupation. It’s my bloody birthright and I won’t force it on anyone else.”

“Bloody is right,” he said, and then, in the lab, “Off with the pants.” 

She undid her trousers and eased them down past the gash. It started the wound bleeding again and her large friend grunted with disapproval.

“Needs a stitch,” he said. 

“No it does not,” she argued, suddenly tired and a bit sore. “Just wrap it tight, it’ll be fine by morning.”

He said nothing, just reached for the disinfectant. She hissed - cleaning the wound somehow more painful than receiving it. He wrapped it well - years and years of patching her up and then she eased the ragged leather back up to be decent enough for the walk to her bedroom.

“Thank you,” she said. “Goodnight, old friend.”

“Don’t forget about tomorrow,” he said. 

“We’ll deal with tomorrow as it comes,” she said, tiredly. She needed some sleep, just a few hours, before the next crisis arrived on her doorstep.

oooo

Will took a cab from the airport. He’d sent word, of course, of his arrival but he didn’t expect a welcoming party. After all, the Slayer hadn’t had a Watcher for over a century. She hadn’t wanted one - she’d turned away any assigned to her and declined the offer of more. He did not expect this to be an easy assignment. 

He still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d landed it. He had actually trained to be a psychologist - Harvard and then Oxford, but being a Watcher was a birthright and he figured their paycheck was as good as any to pay off his student debt and being born into a secret society did offer job security. He’d done research for them, mostly, and had authored an internal paper of some controversy in regards to the current dynamics of the Watchers Council and its wayward Slayer. The general consensus of the Watchers was that eventually, someday, she would need them and come crawling back into the fold. Or, she would die. Will had argued that if they wanted to be a part of the Slayer’s life, they had probably ought to try to accommodate her lifestyle, not the other way around, and since she had wildly outlived them all, perhaps they might learn something from her.

It had scandalized the upper echelon of the Council, but it had rallied the younger members. Not three months after the paper was published, Will got orders that sent him back to North America.

“Give your theory a try, Dr. Zimmerman,” the head of the Council had told him. “What could it hurt?”

So this was a punishment, of sorts. He was supposed to learn to hold his tongue, eat his words, or something. Go get shamed by the Slayer who had been shaming them all for over a century, and come home contrite, ready to retract any subversive opinions. 

But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe if he dug his heels in, appealed to her intellect, helped her to see that times had changed, she might at the very least, let him stay. 

The part of town the cab had driven into looked run down, old, and made him uncomfortable in a way most bad parts of cities had not, before. He knew it wasn’t Old City itself, but what lurked below it and within.

“Here?” the cabbie asked, slowing down in front of the massive, well guarded estate. 

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Will said, firmly. 

She might not let him in the door. She might not even let him through the gate. They sent word that Will was coming, but she hadn’t responded, hadn’t thrown open the door in welcome or anything. She could leave him standing in the street.

“Actually, would you mind waiting a few minutes?” Will asked now, slightly panicky at the prospect of hauling his luggage back toward civilization. “Leave the meter on.”

“Yeah,” the cabbie said. “Sure thing.” 

Will took his messenger bag and slung it across his body and lifted his suitcase from the trunk of the car. He rolled it over the mud and the gravel to the cabbie’s window. He overpaid him, even with tip, hopeful that he would stay at least until the meter matched the amount of money in his hand. 

There was an intercom system just outside the locked gate of the Sanctuary and Will pressed the call button. It clicked three times and then emitted a loud buzz. He waited for a while, growing warm in the face and was just about to press it again when a gruff voice responded.

“Who is it?”

He held down the button labeled ‘talk’ and leaned in close to the speaker.

“Dr. William Zimmerman,” he said. “I’m from the Watchers Council.” 

There was a long enough pause that he had plenty of time to think about how he’d gone about this all wrong. How he should have booked a hotel room, rented a car, at least figured out some way to approach this situation without looking like an orphan left on her stoop. It was cold so close to the water and the sun was already going down. What the hell would he do if this did not pan out?

But then the gate buzzed and he pulled it open easily enough. The cabbie had apparently waited enough because as soon as the gate opened, the engine behind him roared away. 

It was a long walk to the front door and one of the wheels on his suitcase was wobbly over anything other than perfectly level terrain. He stopped, retracted the handle, and carried it the rest of the way to the large, wooden front doors. He felt like already he was being watched.

He rung the bell, expected it to be an ominous gong like the mansion belonged to the Addams family, but it was just a doorbell. 

He expected a butler, tall and suspect, but he got the Slayer herself. He’d only ever seen drawings, portraits, and then, photographs, and she looked just the same. 

“Hello,” she said.

“Oh,” he said, unable to keep the surprise off his face. “I’m Dr. Zimmerman. Hello.” 

She eyed his suitcase, his flushed skin and disheveled appearance. He’d gotten good and wrinkled on his flight and now he just wanted to sit down and eat something and maybe sleep for awhile. It was the middle of the night in London. 

“Did they just expect me to take you in like a stray off the street?” she asked, her accent lilting. She sounded more like a Watcher than he did. The radical American who’d been made a Watcher on a technicality. 

“No, I just came from the airport,” he said, already embarrassed. “I can arrange for my own accommodations but my instructions were to find you straight away.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Aren’t you a little young to be a Watcher?” she asked.

“Aren’t you a little old to be a Slayer?” The question escaped him before he had a chance to let his brain filter his mouth. 

Her mouth twitched. “A bit,” she conceded. “I’m Dr. Helen Magnus.”

“Will Zimmerman,” he said. 

“Come in,” she said now. “I’ll have my butler set you up in some guest quarters. You must be tired.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“You can give me your pitch in the morning and then be on your way.” 

“And if you like my pitch?” he asked. 

She smiled, condescending and a little sad. “Wait here. I’ll send someone for you. Don’t wander, Dr. Zimmerman. There are things here far worse than vampires.” 

He watched her walk away, her heels clicking on the tile as she disappeared down the long corridor. 

His Watcher training had prepared him for many battles but it was clear they had not prepared him for her.

oooo

Her butler turned out to be a sasquatch with not much of a bedside manner. Will followed his loping gait into a distant wing of the house. The butler did not offer up a name, did not help with Will’s luggage and did not appear to be friendly or domesticated past the point of wearing clothing and doing the slayer’s bidding. There were some long awkward minutes in the elevator where the sasquatch stared openly at him, a soft growl at the back of his throat, but Will didn’t ever look him in the eye. Just tiredly cleaned his glasses with his handkerchief and silently waited it out.

The sasquatch lead him down a hall and finally stopped at the door just before the hallway turned. There was a large, bay window with a seat filled with soft cushions. 

“Here,” the sasquatch grunted, motioning at the closed door with his huge hand. So he _could_ talk. 

He didn’t wait around to see if Will found his accommodations acceptable. 

“Nice to meet you!” Will called after him, anyway.

The room was fine. Queen sized bed in a mahogany frame, lots of windows to let in light, a closet and a bureau and a small bathroom with a shower, though no tub. The first thing he did was look up nearby hotels on his phone. If she was going to turn him out, he wanted to have a plan. And what did it matter to him? Everything he did on this lost cause of a trip would be billed to the Council, from his international phone bill to his hotel room and flights. Every cup of coffee he’d buy with the Council’s card. He called one of the hotels and had them reserve him a room for the next night, just in case. 

He obviously didn’t unpack but he did use the bathroom and washed his face. He was too tired for a shower, though he probably could stand one. Now that he’d arrived, his adrenaline had given out and the time change had caught up to him. He was afraid that if he even approached the bed, he’d fall asleep. Instead he retrieved his leather notebook from his messenger bag and sat on the small armchair in the corner of the room. 

He promptly fell asleep with the notebook on his lap.

oooo

Helen looked up.

“He’s not joining us?” she asked.

“Asleep,” came the grunted reply. 

“What time is it in London?” asked Henry. 

“Oh,” Helen said, glancing at her watch. “Nearly 3 am. I guess we’ll give him a pass this once.” 

“Does that mean this whole family dinner facade is out and I can go?” Ashley asked, pushing out from the table.

“No,” Helen said. “One family dinner a week won’t kill any of us.” 

She was as bad as the rest of them, eating standing in her lab more often than not. Ashley sunk back down into her chair and picked up her fork in her fist, like she was planning on stabbing her dinner instead of eating it. 

“I still don’t know what a Watcher is supposed to do,” offered Henry, trying to break the ice. 

“Well, historically, they’d train the Slayer. Teach her about vampires and the other creatures of the night that she was to fight,” Helen said.

“Is there, like, any way this dude knows more than you about anything Slaying related?” Ashley asked.

“No,” Helen said. 

“Then why?” Ashley demanded.

“Why what?” she asked.

“Why do they keep sending these geezers?” Henry asked.

“To be fair, the last one sent was well before you two were born,” she said. “And he’s certainly not a geezer. He looks twenty-five.”

“Like a cute twenty-five?” Ashley asked sitting up. Helen frowned. 

“I’ll not have you fraternizing with the enemy,” she said. “We’ll treat him as we do any temporary guest visiting this Sanctuary.”

“Technically polite?” Ashley asked. 

“As best you can manage,” Helen agreed. 

She asked her big friend to leave a tray outside of the new Watcher’s room in case he woke up hungry and disoriented and then she went back to her office to work until it got late enough to go out on patrol. 

Several hours later, she changed, slipped some stakes and weapons into her coat, and headed for the front door.

“Want some company?”

He’d startled her! Of all the nerve. His brown suit had blended in with the dark decor of her foyer and she’d just breezed right past him.

“I patrol alone,” she said, trying to cover for herself. 

“I promise to stay out of the way,” he said, standing. 

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” he said. “Clearly I haven’t adjusted to the time change.” 

She frowned.

“Think of it this way, Dr. Magnus,” he said. “If I get killed, all of this will be over.”

“All right,” she relented. “But I’m not paying to have your body shipped back to London if you die.” 

“Understood,” he said

“And I’m not waiting for you to change,” she said

He looked down at his tweed suit. “What’s wrong with this?” he asked.

She didn’t bother to answer. 

oooo

Helen walked quickly. She was not actively trying to lose him, but she was trying to push him, certainly. To see if he was made of sterner stuff than he looked. She suspected youth was on his side, however, because despite sharp turns and occasionally breaking out into a run, whenever she glanced over her shoulder, he was there. 

There were three vampires down by the water. They were standing around, having a chat, like they were waiting for something. A shipment of something, perhaps. Helen hadn’t heard about anything, but even she couldn’t know everything. 

She stopped behind a shipping crate considering her options. 

“Are you not going to, you know,” Zimmerman said finally. “Slay them?”

“Nah,” she said. “These don’t look too dodgy. I thought I’d just let them go.”

“Ah,” he said. “Sarcasm.” 

She glanced back at him. He had his hands in his pockets and was watching the vampires, not her. 

“They’re waiting for something,” he said after a moment of observation.

“I’d like to know what,” she agreed. She glanced at her wristwatch. It was only a few minutes before midnight. 

“It’s my understanding that you offer sanctuary to the vampires as well?” he said softly. 

“I do,” she said. “I offer residence at my Sanctuary to all abnormal creatures.”

“Even the demonic ones?” he asked.

“They don’t take me up on it,” she said. “Not usually.”

“Tesla,” Zimmerman said. She couldn’t help but be impressed. The young Watcher had obviously done his homework. 

“Nikola is only ever a guest in my home,” Helen said. “And Nikola is not the same as this lot.” She motioned at the three vampires with her stake. 

“No,” Zimmerman agreed. “Tesla is half human and to my knowledge, the blood that he used to turn himself was ancient and much more pure than the stuff in those guys.” 

She thought about being snide at his casual mention of the source blood - surely he knew enough about her to know that was a subject she knew a great deal about, but something pulled up to the dock, a small motorized boat that slipped in between two larges ships that were dark and quiet. 

“Ah,” she said, “Here we are. Have you ever bested a vampire, Dr. Zimmerman?”

“In controlled conditions,” he said.

“Well, you won’t find those here, so I suggest you stay back,” she said. She didn’t wait around for him to answer. She ran out into the fray, stake in her hand, blood pounding through her veins.

oooo

Will carried their bounty back to the Sanctuary. It was as much punishment as anything else - the box was heavy. He had suggested they open it under more controlled circumstances, perhaps back at the Sanctuary, and the Slayer had only somewhat reluctantly agreed.

“That probably would be best,” she’d said, before shoving it into his arms.

She’d killed four more vampires and one Kungai demon who had also refused her offer of asylum before he’d been about to ask if they shouldn’t head back to the Sanctuary only to find she’d expertly circled them back around and they were already approaching the gates where he’d been dropped off by the taxi only hours before.

His shoulders and biceps were aching. Once they were through the gates, she took the box back and he didn’t complain. She carried it under one arm, resting on her hip like it was a pillow, like it was filled with air. He’d studied, of course, the gifts given to the Slayer, all the Watchers did, but it was something else to see it up close like this. He wondered what of her was Slayer, what of her was due to the source blood, and what, if anything, was just human. Was just Helen Magnus. 

“The sun is coming up, Dr. Zimmerman,” she said. 

“I know,” he said. “And I can leave, certainly, but I wonder if I might have more time. If I could come back and… and study your methods a bit more.” 

She stopped just at the door and looked at him, open curiosity on her face. 

“Are you saying you’d like to learn from me?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. 

“That’s rather unusual for a Watcher,” she said, opening the door with her free hand. He hesitated at the threshold for only a moment, but she didn’t shut the door in his face, so he followed her in, through the foyer toward the old elevator in the hall. “Generally Watchers come here to tell me all that I’m doing wrong and correct me. Turn me into their ideal Slayer.”

“Well,” he said with a dry, painful sort of laugh. “You’ve outlived every Slayer by an enormous margin and sent every Watcher away with that out of date attitude so it would be stupid, yes, to try that again?”

She made a small noise in her throat, a little thoughtful sound. They both got onto the elevator. 

He’d not received any formal tour. He’d been taken to his room and then left there, so he was wildly curious about where she was leading him now. What sort of secrets were kept under the sprawling structure of the North American Sanctuary?

“What is your formal training?” she asked, finally, as the doors parted. He followed her out of the elevator across concrete floors.

“Psychiatry,” he managed, softly.

If the first and second floor of the Sanctuary was a tribute to eras past, the basement was clearly where the modern amenities were kept. She led him into a sterile, technologically advanced laboratory and past that, though clear glass walls, he could see a huge room, metal and stone and iron doors all around. 

“What is that?” he asked before he could help himself.

“The real sanctuary,” she said and did not elaborate. She shucked her leather jacket and replaced it with a white lab lab coat before turning to the box on her workbench. The box was a mix of wood and metal and had a heavy looking lock on the front.

“How should we go about this?” he asked. He was nervous, now, sweating a little. His suit would need imminent cleaning after the night he’d had. There could be anything in the box, demonic or ordinary, dead or alive. It hadn’t felt alive as he’d carried it, that is to say, nothing had been moving. 

Helen touched the lock and then, taking a firmer grip, merely ripped it off, splintering much of the wood as she went. It was enough and she lifted the lid.

“Hmm,” she said. Seeing that nothing leapt out at her, he stepped up and peered inside. 

“Those look like insect eggs,” he said, peering down at the clusters that were nestled against a bed of straw. “But real big.”

“Ozone beetles if I’m not mistaken,” she said with a weary sigh. “Red listed and illegal to both transport and sell.”

“Abnormal, then,” he said. “What would vampires want with them?”

“Money, most likely,” she said. “Or, to release on a populous if the vampire was harboring some grander plans. It would certainly create chaos, make it easier to wipe out a group of humans, easier to feed.”

“Those will have to be destroyed,” Will said.

She glanced at him, her face smoothing out and her eyes going cold.

“That is not how we do things here,” she said softly. 

“Excuse me?” he said. “Even if you don’t subscribe to the Watcher theory of being a Slayer, surely you agree that it is your duty to protect human lives.”

“It is my duty to protect all life,” she said. “These beetles, while dangerous to humans, are not malicious creatures, are not scheming against us. They have just as much right to survive as anything. They are not soulless demonic creatures, they are insects. They will stay here, protected and cared for.”

Her response did not leave room for argument. It was her house, her Sanctuary, her potentially beetle infected brain on the line. 

“You’re the boss,” he said. 

She picked up a phone, dialed two numbers and waited.

“Hello dearest,” she said into the receiver. “I have an intake in the SHU for you.” 

_Ah_ , Will thought, _The daughter_.

oooo

Will had showered and changed and packed up his things. He’d lasted longer than anyone at the council would have believed, but he still felt like an utter failure. He could always look up his father, since he was here, instead of tucking tail and going to the airport straight away. He was fairly certain his father still resided on this continent. He’d inherited his place among the Watchers from his mother, at any rate, and his father had no real interest or patience for the group of people that had ultimately removed Will’s mother from this mortal coil. Will couldn’t blame him, not really.

Surely his hotel would have an internet connection. He pulled the handle up on his suitcase, took one last look around, and opened the door to his guest room. 

He jumped and possibly let out a little shriek. The sasquatch stood there, arms crossed, taking up the lion’s share of the doorway. Next to him was a man, not far from Will’s own age, holding a white tablet against his forearm. 

“You must be the Watcher,” the man said with a smirk. 

“Uh,” he said, wiping his hand on his dark slacks. He’d been happy to get out of a full suit and had chosen a lighter fabric, a white button down shirt, a vest instead of a full coat. He was much more comfortable. “Dr. Will Zimmerman.” He extended his hand. Both looked at it but made no move to take it. He lowered it. 

“Doc says you can stay for the week,” the Sasquatch grunted and then walked away. 

“I’m Henry,” the human man said. He was assuming, anyway. Vampires could look human enough, and other things. “Dinner is in an hour. I wouldn’t miss it twice in a row.” Then he, too, turned his back on Will.

“Does that guy have a name?” Will called after Henry.

“Yep,” Henry said right before he turned a corner. 

oooo

Helen was the last to arrive to the formal dining room; it was her prerogative. She was the boss and the Slayer, She had inherited both the Sanctuary network and her Slayerhood by birthright so she was allowed to make an entrance. 

Zimmerman was sitting next to Henry, staring down into his lap. Ashley sat across from him, her stare unrelenting, her lip curled. It was posturing for the most part. Ashley was not much of a host, never particularly concerned with the feelings of others besides, perhaps, her mother but even then. Biggie was concerned more with the food than with the people in the dining room and Henry was looking at his mobile. 

Zimmerman was the first to notice her darkening the doorway and stood. Good manners from good breeding, or at least proper English breeding though he seemed as English as apple pie. He could slip into the vernacular of the Watchers but not the accent. So raised here, then, or not too far from. 

She lifted her hands. “Sit, please,” she said. Though the house was certainly enormous, this room was small and the table hardly large enough to hold the five of them and all the food. Her large friend was showing off a bit. They didn’t generally eat so well. A roasted turkey, platters of vegetables, fresh rolls. “It looks lovely, old friend.”

Zimmerman didn’t sit until she did. Ashley and Henry stared at him, perplexed and Ashley still looked as if she’d smelled something foul. She didn’t understand why Zimmerman was still among them and Helen couldn’t say she did either. Except for there was something about him that seemed somehow promising. She’d sent her fair share of Watchers away and those men had always been older, portly, scolding. They had made the hair on the back of her neck rise. They’d had the stink of magic about them and though they weren’t evil in the same way a vampire was, they felt to her foreign. Misaligned. 

Dr. Zimmerman, young though he might be, did not feel so foreign. It was a mystery and Helen couldn’t help it - her curiosity had been piqued. She wasn’t taking him on as a Watcher, but she didn’t see how it would hurt to let him stay for a few more days.

Her old friend took her plate and filled it with food. More than she would want to eat or would be able to stomach, but it was commentary on his part. He always thought her too thin, underfed. She couldn’t help that she burned more calories than she could consume. She accepted the plate gracefully and placed her cloth napkin onto her lap. 

“Ashley,” Helen said. “I would like for you to show Dr. Zimmerman the armory this evening.” 

Ashley looked up from her plate, her brow furrowed. “Mom!”

“Henry,” Helen said, pushing on. “I would like for you to show him the SHU and the laboratories.”

“Doc, I-”

She cut Henry off. “Old friend, if you would show him the library and the residential wing and perhaps, show him to my office after my last conference call?”

He grunted a low reply, more like a growl, but did not argue. 

“Thank you,” Dr. Zimmerman said softly. 

“Plenty for your report, I should think,” she said looking at him. “I suspect you’ll need to check in soon.”

“It would help to get on the wifi,” he said.

“Henry can certainly help you with that as well,” she said. 

“Dude, wait,” Henry said. “Doc, that will give him access to-”

“-to nothing I am particularly concerned about,” Helen finished. “I trust that our most precious resources are at the very least password protected?”

“I don’t need to snoop, just email,” Zimmerman said. 

“I’ll set up a guest wifi,” Henry said. 

“I don’t have anything to hide,” offered Zimmerman. “I am here on assignment, but, but not to subvert or undermine. Only to learn and, perhaps, to help.”

“Thank you,” Helen said, when they others just looked at him. “I don’t mind that you communicate about my work as a Slayer, but I’d prefer for you to leave the workings of the Sanctuary out of it.”

“I can do that,” he said. 

So a truce, then. For now.

oooo

It was difficult to adjust, but Will made himself get up in the morning, despite being tired and a bit sore. He’d been up late looking at her weapons - as many guns and bombs as stakes and swords - and then meeting some of the residents of the Sanctuary. Henry had eventually seemed to warm up to him, though the daughter never did. With the Sasquatch, it was too hard to know. He hadn’t struck Will, so he was calling it a win. 

Then, he’d seen what was clearly the heart of the operation, the Slayer’s office. They’d had a brief chat about his training, where he’d gone to school, the sort of practical experience he had in fighting and then she’d dismissed him. It was just as well - he was exhausted. He’d fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow. 

He brushed his teeth, shaved with hot water over the sink and considered the small wardrobe he’d brought with him. He’d packed for failure - three suits, some slacks and shirts, two pairs of shoes. The daughter, Ashley, and Henry were completely casual. Jeans and t-shirts. The Sasquatch wore what fit. The Slayer was interesting - international business woman by day in suits and pencil skirts and expensive blouses, but a Slayer at night. Leather, strong yet supple. Boots with tough soles. He’d yet to see anything else. Maybe there wasn’t, maybe that was it. He wondered, briefly, when she slept. If she slept at all. 

He’d need clothes if he stayed, perhaps a vehicle. He’d have to commit to this life, though it was early yet. She’d send him away. Maybe at the end of the week, maybe at the end of the month. Eventually. Will had a lot of experience being sent away. 

It took some detective work to find the kitchen, but his desire for coffee was strong and no one had expressly told him he couldn’t wander. He found his way back to the dining room and then hunted around until he found the kitchen. It wasn’t empty. 

Ashley was there, as was her mother. It was just after eight - the Slayer was done up. Beautiful hair, flawless makeup, a navy suit and heels tall enough that she was at least an inch over him. Ashley was in a big hooded sweatshirt and flannel pants, her blonde hair twisted up on her head. They both held mugs.

“Coffee?” he asked, hopefully when they turned to look at him.

“Not in this house,” the Slayer said. 

“Tea,” Ashley said. “You should feel right at home.” It was, so far, the kindest thing she’d said to him.

“I’m not British,” he said. 

“Pity,” the Slayer said. Still, she pulled a mug out of the cupboard for him and pointed to an electric kettle, still bubbling. 

“I thought all Watchers were stuffy British dudes,” Ashley said. 

“Like your grandfather,” Will said. 

“Dude I’m 22, you think I ever got to meet my grandfather?” she asked. 

“The title of Watcher is passed down through the generations,” the Slayer said - sounding more like Dr. Magnus, now, as she lectured them both. “While the council certainly started in England, one might see how over time, things might become more international.”

“So you’re American?” Ashley demanded.

“Canadian, actually,” he said. “I was born in Toronto.”

“There’s a school for potentials there,” Dr. Magnus said.

“They must love you,” Ashley said to her mom. “Their whole education is like a total waste of time.”

Unless something were to happen to the current slayer, Will thought, though didn’t voice it aloud. He could see that Dr. Magnus was having the same line of thought. Most slayers didn’t make it out of their teenage years - she had obviously surpassed that expectation, but the danger remained real.

Will selected a tea bag and added hot water. Tea it would have to be. 

“I have a meeting at nine,” Dr. Magnus said. “But afterward, I’ve set aside some time for you, Dr. Zimmerman. Shall we meet at eleven?”

“Sure,” he said. “Yes.”

“And you,” she said to her daughter. “You’re supposed to be doing the feedings this morning.”

“Ugh,” Ashley said, though she did head out into the hall, toward the elevator. 

With a few hours with which to occupy himself, Will wandered to the library. He had only gotten a brief look on his silent tour with the Sasquatch, but this morning, the room was filled with warm, buttery light and completely deserted. He’d liberated a scone to go along with his tea and though it was not, perhaps, the largest breakfast, it could certainly tide him over until lunch. He hoped there was lunch.

The library collection was lovely and well-kept. It was large for a private collection - not as large as the council’s library but far more varied. Still, he was here for a purpose, so her ferreted out the collection she had on mystical elements, demons, Slayers. It was extensive - mostly things he’d read, a few titles he knew of but had never seen up close. One or two things that piqued his curiosity intensely. One was a tome on abnormals that were also demons - whether through ill-advised mating or, like in the case of vampires, a demon squatting inside an unwilling host. 

And then there was something else. A leather bound book, but not bound well, old and tattered. He pulled it down, saw that there was a piece of twine wrapped around it, holding it closed. A journal, or a diary.

He opened it carefully and saw that it was hand-written. A few moments of reading and he realized what it was. A Watcher’s diary.

The only reason a Slayer would even have an original Watcher diary would be because a Watcher had given it to her. Or passed it on to her. Which meant that this was the diary of Gregory Magnus. 

To Will’s knowledge, Magnus was never a field Watcher. He was an academic trained for research, much like Will himself. Magnus had never got on particularly well with the council, chafed against the structure of it all, the hierarchy, the history of what they’d done to and expected of so many young girls. 

But, then. It had been Magnus who’d offered up his daughter as a potential and Magnus who’d oversaw her training once she’d been called. The previous slayer had died in India, fighting Lothos. Helen Magnus had woken up, age 15, as the strongest girl in the world.

It was difficult for Will to picture. 

He lost track of the time, because at one point he looked up to see the Slayer coming toward him, her heels a dull thud on the carpet of the Library floor. The clock on the wall said 11:10. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said. 

“I’m not often stood up,” she said. “But I see what kept you.”

“Our records indicate that you simply went without a Watcher,” Will said. “Your father… highly unorthodox.”

“I think of him as a mentor,” she said. “Not a Watcher.”

“He trained you,” Will said. “Oversaw your fitness, your slaying, your magic.” 

“I never cared much for magic,” she said. 

“Even so.” She could not care for it all she wanted, it was still important to her job. So many demons relied on magic to do their bidding, and it was magic that infused the first slayer with power and what gave Helen Magnus her strength today. What sent her prophetic dreams, let her know evil was close by, connected her to the earth and to beyond. 

“My father had issues with your Council, Dr. Zimmerman, issues that have not been cleared up to this day.” She was stern sounding, but tired. An argument she’d had a number of times with a number of Watchers.

“I don’t disagree,” he said. “But it’s been a hundred years. Ignoring us clearly isn’t going to start a revolution. If you want change, I suggest you work with me. Tell me what sort of support would actually help you. Allow me to at least offer you the resources the Watchers Council has spent a thousand years perfecting.”

“I will not support an organization that enslaves young women in the name of salvation,” she said.

“I don’t want a slave, Dr. Magnus. I want a hero.” 

“Hero or not,” she said. “Slayers are just girls. They do their best. I do my best. I’ll not have you mucking it up.” 

“How do I get you to trust me?” Will asked, frustrated. “What is it that you would like?”

She opened her mouth but whatever she was planning to say was lost in the shrill blaring of an alarm that sounded. His hands flew up to his head to cover his ears. She reached around her back and pulled out a weapon, though where she’d been stashing it, he wasn’t able to tell. 

“Come on,” she shouted. “You can at least help me now.”

oooo

Henry got a nasty gash on his forehead, but the escaped abnormal had been contained within the hour. Every moment spent in the Sanctuary answered some questions for Will but unfurled a hundred more. 

Dr. Magnus was tending to Henry’s cut, swabbing the area with disinfectant. She had on her lab coat and latex gloves, but she was gentle with him, almost maternal. 

“So,” Will said. “Werewolf, huh?”

“I prefer HAP,” he said. 

“And the lunar cycle…?” Will pressed.

“Under control with a medicinal regimen,” Dr. Magnus said. “ _And_ none of your business.”

“You can control it?” Will asked, ignoring the admonishment. “That’s impressive, man. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Henry said, flashing a toothy grin. “And hey, thanks for having my back in that capture.”

Dr. Magnus pressed her lips together and snipped off some tape to put gauze over Henry’s gash. 

“He was handy with a stunner,” Henry said. 

“I try.”

“I thought Watchers prefered broadswords,” she said. 

“You didn’t exactly subdue that thing with a stake,” he said back. 

She relented only slightly. “I suppose not.”

oooo

Helen slept fitfully if at all. She didn’t need much - slayers slept, from what she could gather, so her ability to function on two or three hours of rest had to do with the longevity. Sometimes, when she was wounded, she slept a bit longer. Her body healed more efficiently while she slept. Tonight, however, she was tired. She’d risen early, the unexpected containment, and then a patrol. Dr. Zimmerman had come with her again, still in slacks and a coat. He’d left the tie behind, this time, which was wise. A tie was an easy target. If he kept insisting on coming with her, he’d at least need sturdier shoes. 

It had been busy - they’d stumbled across a nest of vampires - around twelve of them. They’d both agreed to back off, make a plan, come with reinforcements, when the patch of roof where they’d been standing - peering down through a small skylight - gave way and they fell right into the mess. He’d landed hard on mostly garbage but he’d been lucky. Lucky enough that he’d gotten up and walked away. She had landed on wooden pallets and though it hadn’t been comfortable, she was fine. 

Worried, Helen had realized that she wasn’t going to have to bother to send the Watcher away if he was dead. Or worse. Watchers who were turned were always the cruelest, most vile vampires. All that knowledge. No guilt. 

They’d gotten out of it, but not easily. The vampires had a small fire going in a metal bin and she’d burned the whole building down, the majority of the nest still inside. Picked off the three who’d managed to get out. Will had beheaded one - turns out he was handy with a sword as well as a stunner. She’d not been wrong. 

Her ribs ached and one of them had wrenched back her arms pretty good. They’d both gotten sooty and Dr. Zimmerman had been coughing quite a bit - too much smoke. They’d limped home, as it were. But they had fought well together, to the point where it seemed peculiar. It was like he knew exactly what she needed the moment she needed it. He could anticipate her moves, her style, where she would turn next. And she could… could feel him fighting with her. Like, like…

“Like magic,” she said, sitting up. 

She threw back her covers, stepped into her slippers, put on her robe and tied it with some haste. It was nearly morning, but not yet light out. She hurried toward the guest rooms. She wasn’t sure exactly which room her old friend had stationed him in, but when she marched down the hall, only one door was closed.

She pounded her fist against it. She kept knocking until finally, the door opened. Dr. Zimmerman was there, striped pajama pants and bare chested, half asleep with his glasses askew. 

“What, what’s the matter?” he asked. 

She’d meant to yell, to intimidate with both her strength and her intellect, but his chest was almost hard to look at, he was so bruised up.

“How are you ribs?” she asked, instead.

“Dr. Magnus, it’s four in the morning,” he said. And then, “They hurt.” 

“I’ll write you a prescription,” she said.

“I don’t like pain killers,” he said.

“Do you like pain?” she snapped back and then, “Some people do, I suppose.”

“I prefer to be clear headed,” he said. Which, of course, reminded her why she came flying down to his room in the first place.

“Did you cast a spell on me?” she demanded now, though she’d undermined herself a bit. She reached out to touch a scrape on his shoulder that looked like it might still be bleeding. He stepped back. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked. He was quite fit under all that tweed, she was surprised to see. She’d expected him to be scrawny, thin, but he had real muscles. She tried not to stare, only to look into his face when speaking.

“When we fought earlier,” she said. “It was as if… you could anticipate my needs. Too well. It was as if there were outside forces involved.” She tightened the sash on her robe as if to punctuate her displeasure.

“Oh,” he said. “Well. Why don’t you come in?” It felt a little bizarre, him inviting her into one of her own rooms, but she nodded. There was a chair in the corner that had a small suitcase on it. He started tossing things into it to move it, but she just perched on the edge of the rumpled bed. He could stand or fuss around, she didn’t care which. He moved the suitcase enough so he could sit. 

“Before I came,” he said, “The council asked the gods for the protection of the Slayer and blessed me as your Watcher.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You look down your nose at magic, Dr. Magnus, but it is magic that created the Slayer in the first place. It does not go away because you turn your back on it.”

“I don’t need a bloody lecture,” she said. 

“Watchers are supposed to be bonded with their Slayers,” he said, lecturing on anyway. “I’m… Watchers, that is, are supposed to support you. We’re meant to help keep you alive. Now, obviously you’ve done marvelous job of that on your own, thanks to your many talents and your more abnormal physiology. But having a partner could even improve your outstanding record.”

“Watchers aren’t partners,” she said. “They bark orders and get girls killed.”

“Not anymore,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be that way. We could change that, you and I. We could make it better.” 

She tucked her hands between her knees. 

“Look,” he said. “You’re the Slayer and you will be for the foreseeable future. You have the power and you always have. I can help you. I can stay - do your research, increase your power and your resources, but it will require some trust.”

“Trust takes time,” she said.

“Then give me more of it,” he replied.

She stood. “You say you asked the gods for their blessing?”

“It looks like we’ve been blessed, Dr. Magnus. It doesn’t always happen. Slayers don’t always get sent Watchers that are a good match.”

“It’s certainly something to think about,” she said. “I’ll let you sleep now.” 

She herself didn’t plan to go back to sleep, but when she got back to her bedroom, a wave of fatigue overcame her and she had to lie down.

oooo

He found her in the library - she’d not been at breakfast. She sat at one of the large, wooden tables, several books piled high around her. Not just any books, but books familiar to him. The immediate, most obvious one being the Pergamum Codex. It was a book he was all too familiar with. The book that had been lost once and found by Gregory Magnus. A book the council believed should be in their possession, not the Slayer’s. They had copies of course, but it was Dr. Magnus who was pouring over the real thing.

“Tricky, that one,” he said. 

“Yes,” she said. “It has foretold of my passing a number of times.”

“Has it been right?” he asked. A silly question, maybe, but prophecies were twisty, easily fulfilled, easily sidestepped. 

“Not quite,” she said. “There’s a section that faded away when I injected the source blood. It just disappeared. The pages turned to dust. But not all of it.”

“What’s this about?” he asked.

She closed the Codex and looked at her notes.

“ _Lo! Now the direful monster, whose skin clings_  
_to his strong bones, strides o’er the groaning rocks_  
_He withers all in silence, and in his hand_  
_unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life_ ” 

She looked up at him, her big eyes dark in the warm light of the library. She was not as put together as usual - still made up, still beautiful in an arresting sort of way, but her hair was down, loose and she wore a soft cardigan. Her outfit lacked structure. She looked tired.

“William Blake,” Will said, finally, when it seemed like she was waiting for an answer. 

“What?” she asked. “That’s it?”

“It’s from a poem called _To Winter_ ,” he said. “I’d wager you have it here.”

“I’d wager you’re right,” she said, standing and walking over to the shelves. It took her a few moments but she pulled something down, flipped a few pages and then again said, “You’re right.”

“I know.”

“Blake fan?”she asked.

“Eidetic memory,” he countered. “What’s this all about?”

“I heard it,” she said. “In my dream.”

“What kind of dream?” he asked.

“I think you know,” she said. “I’ve had a number of prophetic dreams in my tenure as the Slayer but I’m a bit at a loss as to what this one means.”

“Well the poem itself is about a volcano in Iceland,” he said. “In the middle ages, people called it a gateway to hell.”

“A hellmouth?” she asked.

“Perhaps, at the time,” he said. “It could have been that anything that rained fire down upon them was considered to be an act of Satan, though there were other active volcanoes that didn’t get that nickname, so perhaps. If it was an actual hellmouth, it isn’t anymore.” He looked at her, furrowed browed. “How did you come across the words?”

“They were spoken to me,” she said.

“By whom?”

“By you, Dr. Zimmerman.” She set the old book down. “I’m almost always alone in my dreams, save for what I’ve been fighting. One, I dreamt of Ashley, before she was born. To see you there…” She shook her head, pursed her lips. “I think you were injured. It was snowing, which it does here so rarely.”

“Oh?” he said. 

“Things were different, but not different enough,” she said. “I think you’re meant to stay.”

“Are you saying you’ll take me on as your Watcher?” he asked, his eyebrows raised. 

“I’m saying that, for now, I don’t think I have much of a choice.” She sighed, her hands flat on the polished wood of the old table. “I’ll have you moved to residential quarters and assign you a car.”

“My quarters are fine,” he said.

“Nevertheless,” she said, waving his protest away. “I suggest, Dr. Zimmerman, that you acquire a more practical wardrobe for field work.”

“Yes,” he said. “Good. I will.”

Just in case, though, Will spent some time researching the poem that week. She hadn’t come out and said it, but it seemed like something big and bad was headed toward them. 

oooo

The residential quarters were nicer, he had to admit. The bed was softer, the bathroom more luxurious, the view better. His room had built in bookshelves and cupboards for storage. He would, in his next report to the Watchers Council, send for more of his things, including his personal library. He’d called Quentin Travers, however, and told him that the Slayer had personally requested that he stay on as her Watcher. 

The long silence was more than worth staying up late to make the overseas call. 

“Very well then,” he’d said, and not much else. All Will could do was send in his reports, keep his diary up to date, and be grateful for the large salary a field Watcher with an active Slayer received. 

The car he was assigned, by Dr. Magnus or whomever, was an all black Audi, a lovely car. 

“I can purchase my own,” Will had told the sasquatch upon receiving the keys.

“Doc says you get this,” he’d said in a tone that had not left room for more debate. He found the car in the garage, parked in a row of all black vehicles - he assumed the Mercedes-Benz belonged to the good doctor herself, and then he’d marveled at the row of motorcycles. 

Dr. Magnus’s wealth had been part of the reason she’d been able to shed the Council so easily, and he wondered about it now. The Sanctuary, the tech involved in its security, the row of gleaming black cars, the armory, hell, her wardrobe, all impressively expensive. 

She’d also given him a mobile phone. 

“I have the Council phone,” he’d pointed out. 

“You’re certainly welcome to continue using that one,” she’d said. 

He’d realized then, that she was truly making him a part of her team and that he should just accept it gracefully. 

He took the Audi into New City and bought jeans, t-shirts, boots with steel toes and thick soles, a leather jacket. He spent more money on clothing in one day than he had in the last two years, but it was necessary. He’d overheard Ashley and Henry making fun of his brown suit only the day before. He may have convinced Dr. Magnus to let him stay, but the others would need winning over. 

The jeans certainly helped, however. At breakfast the next day, Ashley had said, “Look at Captain Tweed trying to fit in with the natives!”

Dr. Magnus had then assigned her daughter to train Will on how to do morning and evening feedings down in the SHU.

“Me?” Will had asked.

“You either work here or you don’t, Dr. Zimmerman. I don’t keep guests,” she’d informed him.

He’d preached this to the Council, of course, that the Slayer ought to call the shots and the Watchers Council offer their support and not the other way round, but in practice, it was a bit of an adjustment. He’d expected to do research and fight alongside her, not feed her pets and attend her staff meetings. Half the time she was off on Sanctuary business, missing her nightly patrols and killing vampires only incidentally, if they happened to get in her way. 

The first Sanctuary trip he went on was to Barcelona to find and bag an abnormal that turned out to be a demon. He’d been surprised she’d invited him, but she’d commented that she needed the extra body. They’d chartered a plane and flown through the night - Dr. Magnus as pilot, of course. What couldn’t the Slayer do with enough years to do it? He’d slept some on the plane, Ashley and Henry too. Dr. Magnus didn’t seem tired at all, which was worrisome. 

But they’d gone right to the coordinates where the Abnormal had been spotted, renting a car and driving outside of the city limits and then hiking several miles on foot. There was a Sanctuary in Madrid, but while the facility was equipped to house abnormals, they were not, said Dr. Magnus, equipped to subdue a creature of that size. 

They found the creature underground and Will said, “Uh, that’s a demon.”

“According to my reports…” Dr. Magnus said but he held up a hand.

“It’s a Bukavac demon,” he said. The demon was half submerged in a pool of filthy water, but he could see four of the presumed six legs. The gnarled horns atop its horrible head. “It will strangle everyone to death, Dr. Magnus. It needs to be slain, not rescued.” 

“You’re sure?” she yelled, though he thought part of her must have already trusted him because she was pulling a sword out of the sheath at her side. Abnormals gave into stunners and guns but demons tended to have much thicker skin. The old weapons worked best. 

The demon was screaming now - it was large, not the largest he’d ever studied, but the horrible shriek made it seem bigger somehow. Certainly more terrifying. He nodded - he was sure.

“All right,” she seemed to mutter and then headed toward the thing, sword in the air. 

It was a good twenty minutes before she got the head completely severed. And then they had to hike several miles back - Helen wet, dirty, and smelling of dead demon. She had some slight bruising around her neck from the demon’s attempts to strangle her, but they would fade in a few hours.

“How many demons do you have in your house masquerading as abnormals?” he asked, feeling a twinge of anger. It was all well and good for her to look down her nose at the Watchers Council but protecting demons? Housing and feeding them? That was unacceptable.

“We obviously were never going to subdue that thing, chill out,” Ashley said. 

“Dude, I’m pretty sure a real demon would destroy the Sanctuary not live in it,” Henry added. Though he looked a bit miffed as well.

“Well forgive me if I don’t find that comforting,” Will said. “Dr. Magnus, you ought to be able to sense the difference between a demon and an abnormal and you ought to be able to sense it well before you’re halfway into capturing it!” 

“Enough,” she said. 

“If you spent any time at all training in magic…”

“I said enough!” Magnus snapped. “I killed the bloody demon, what more do you want?”

“I want you to care about slaying as least as much as you care about the Sanctuary,” he said. 

“Only one is a death sentence,” she said.

Will decided to keep his peace for the rest of the hike. 

Magnus angrily squeezed demon blood out of her hair. 

oooo

Helen assigned Dr. Zimmerman an office. It seemed the right thing to do - give him room with a desk. She was growing tired of seeing him in the library - every time she needed to look something up, he was there, nose in a book or writing in his little diary or typing loudly on his laptop. 

The office wasn’t far from hers - down the hall and a bit around the corner. He’d had a week before she decided to stop by and see if he was actually using it. But when she got there, the room was dark, door ajar. She pushed it open, flipped on the light. There was evidence, at least, that he’d been there. Files on the desk, a pen askew on the blotter. The blinds raised and curtains pushed back. He had a view of the old oak tree out in the courtyard. She walked in, looked around. It was still impersonal. Perhaps she’d get him a plant. 

He must have things, mementos, trinkets of living three decades on this planet somewhere, if not here in the Sanctuary. Things back in England, perhaps. She didn’t really know much about him besides his title and the fact that he’d somehow weaseled into becoming her Watcher. She didn’t know his likes, his hobbies. If he had much family left - Watchers often didn’t. If he had a love back home. Anything really. Guilt nipped at her. She’d not been a very good host and though her reasons for doing so were still valid, she also could realize that it was counterproductive to allow him to stay and still push him away. 

She sat in the leather chair at his desk and picked up the pen, set it straight against the line of the blotter. 

Dr, Zimmerman had been right about the Bukavac demon. He’d been right, also, about it not being the first time she’d gone hunting for abnormals only to find demons. About realizing it far too late into the capture. It could be hard to tell simple aggression from evil, but she ought to be better at it. She could be better, she thought. She just cared about the Sanctuary so much that sometimes slaying felt like a chore that weighed her down. She’d been the Slayer for _so long_ now. There was no retirement. There was only one way out. 

Will walked in, stalled in the doorway at the sight of her.

“Dr. Magnus,” he said.

“Dr. Zimmerman,” she replied.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked. It was only a little, tiny bit snide. He was still smarting over the Bukavac fiasco as well. 

“Just having a look around,” she said. “To see how you were settling.” 

“Just fine, thanks,” he said. 

“Good.” She didn’t move, just ran her finger along the edge of his desk. “Say, Dr. Zimmerman-”

“You can call me Will, you know,” he interrupted. “That would be just fine with me.”

“Will,” she said, thought it felt awkward and sounded it, too, “Let’s say Tuesdays and Thursdays at ten. In the gym.”

“What?”

“Training,” she said. 

“Oh,” he said. “Yes. Good. Great. I’ll put it in my calendar.” He fumbled for his smart phone.

“It’s already there,” she said. 

“What… what would you care to study?” he asked.

“I believe,” she said, finally standing. “That’s up to you.”

But when Thursday rolled around and Helen showed up to the gym in lycra and running shoes, she found that on the center of the exercise mat was a small collection crystals and the room smelled like incense. 

“All right,” she said. He was not in exercise gear - jeans and a blue button down, but he was barefoot, which felt strange and too personal.

“Good,” he said. “Come in.” 

“Did I over dress?” she asked. “Under dress?”

“You look perfect,” he said. “Anything comfortable is fine.”

She toed off her shoes before stepping onto the squishy mat, eyeballing the crystals. There was a tall piece of amber, a large green chunk of fuchsite, a cloudy blue one she didn’t know the name of, and apophyllite? She couldn’t be sure. She reminded herself that magic was just a kind of science, that not everything was hokum because it was something she, herself, did not practice. 

“I’d like to start with your focus,” he said. “Get a read of where you’re at.”

“All right,” she said again. It was difficult not to find the whole exercise offensive. 

“Not your outward ability to focus, but your inward ability,” he clarified. “Vampires aren’t the only thing you ought to be able to sense. Evil, magics both dark and light, pure good - all these things should raise awareness in you.” 

They did, in a way. She just had the bad habit of empathizing with misunderstood creatures and there was often some unintended overlap. And also… well, she ought to tell him.

“Dr. Zimmerman,” she said and then, more gently, “Will. I must admit that… the very same thing that gave me my longevity…”

“Has gummed up your works a bit, I know,” he said. “I figured as much. I didn’t mean to snap at you, Magnus. Instead of getting angry about the Bukavac, I should have just thought for a moment about why something that should be innate for you was difficult and it’s because of the vampire blood.” 

“Yes,” she said. “Well, that’s my suspicion. I can sense vampires but it’s not… not how it was before. Before it was pain, like cramping, but now and for so long it has been just a sort of tingly awareness. They don’t ever feel dangerous. Intellectually, obviously, I know, but…”

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll work on honing your skills.”

“With crystals?”

“They serve as a focal point,” he said. “I know it seems ridiculous, but…”

“Let’s just get on with it,” she said. 

“That’s the spirit,” he said dryly.

She sat cross-legged, close enough to Will that they could bump knees if she wanted, though they never did. He lit a candle too, on the floor next to the mat. It didn’t smell like anything, or if it did, she couldn’t smell it over the incense. He had her touch the crystals one at a time while he talked about their properties. The one that was supposed to help her concentrate on her inner gifts was warm in her hands and the green fuchsite glowed a little when they both touched it. 

It was all a bit more impressive than expected, she had to admit. He let her keep the fuchsite and told her to keep it by her bed or on her desk in her office. It was a healer’s stone, generally, he said, but for their purposes it was to help her focus on her own senses and not be distracted by others. To help her sort out the good from the bad. 

“Do you want some tea?” she asked. She didn’t think much of it now, having him follow her from the gym to her office where her old friend was already setting up her tea service. She had a schedule, after all. She’d sent Ashley and Henry down to Texas to do some business, so there was no staff meeting. They’d call for check in at some point, but not for hours yet. Her old friend would lurk around but would not interrupt unless she called for him. 

Will sat on the couch, she sat in the chair and poured his tea. 

“I have nearly two hundred residents living in this Sanctuary,” Helen said. “Not all of them live in the SHU.”

“I’ve met some,” he said.

“I think a lot of them could benefit from having a psychiatrist on site,” she said.

“My specialty was really forensics,” he said. “I was going to be a cop. You know, before.”

“Before the Council stepped in and took over your education, yes,” she said. “We were all going to be something else.”

“Somehow I suspect you’d still be doing exactly this if you weren’t a Slayer.”

She smiled. “I’ve been a Slayer since I was fifteen. I have been a Slayer for over one hundred and forty years. It’s hard to imagine another life.”

“I don’t usually take patients,” he said. “But I suppose you could put the word out that I’m available if anyone wants to talk.”

“I will,” she said. 

“They don’t trust me, though,” he pointed out.

“They will,” she said. “Trust takes time.”

“You could talk to me too, you know,” he offered. “It’s why I’m here.”

“What are we doing now?” she asked, a small smile at her lips. 

“All right,” he said. “Let’s talk about your stakes.”

She made a small expression of surprise. “My stakes?”

“I’d like to start making them for you,” he said. “It’s sort of an ancient tradition.”

“I buy them, actually, in bulk,” she said. He winced.

“You buy them in bulk because you lose them in bulk. If you had a good stake, a stake made for you and only you, you’d hang on to them a little better.”

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Nope,” he said. “I’ll see you for patrol.” He set his teacup down and left.

“All right,” she said to her empty office. “Dismissed.”

oooo

Ashley brought a tuxedo to his office. Something Magnus had pulled from storage for him.

“She’s got like three rooms full of clothes,” Ashley said. “Some of the stuff is super old.”

“Well, she’s super old,” Will said without thinking. Then he realized that it was kind of rude and glanced up at Ashley who just nodded.

“She is. Like, people forget because she wears leather and shoots guns and stuff but she can be so stuffy. She’s so weird about swearing and anything crude. Don’t even get me started on her attitude toward tampon commercials.” 

He grinned. “Female hysteria.” 

“Yes,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We’re all insane.”

It was as friendly as Ashley had ever been to him.

“So what’s with the monkey suit?” she asked.

“Undercover,” he said. “Every once in awhile, vampires like to organize and try to… move into the upper echelons of human society.”

“Rich people taste better?” she asked.

“They certainly leave behind better stuff,” he said. “There’s this big event this weekend. There are vampire societies out there, mostly humans who become infatuated with vampires but every so often a real vampire will get involved and start to turn them and then it can get out of hand.”

“Yes, what with the murders,” she said dryly.

“So one of these so called vampire brotherhood is having this big gala thing,” he said. “And in a city that has so much actual vampire activity…”

“Suck fest,” she said. “Man, mom never lets me go on Slayer stuff. Sure horrible abnormal missions are fine but she gets one whiff of vampires and I’m benched.”

“Well,” he said. “Slayers have a long history of family members being turned by vampire foe. Could you imagine a worse fate for her?”

“Okay, guilt trip much, jeeze,” she said. “Have fun at your vampire prom.” 

The tuxedo was fine, standard. So many of these vampire societies went goth, but this was supposed to be a formal affair. Another red flag. Usually crazy cults weren’t flush with cash.

He wasn’t looking forward to dressing up - violent altercations and formal wear never went together well. He wasn’t looking forward to convincing people not to willingly line up for the slaughter. He never looked forward to walking into danger - maybe he wouldn’t walk out again. Maybe Magnus wouldn’t. Too many details up in the air.

Though, when Saturday rolled around, he had to admit that she cleaned up nicely. It wasn’t like she was a casual dresser, but this was the first time he’d seen her in a ball gown, her hair swept up, gemstones at her throat. 

“Look at you,” he said. “How do you fight in that?”

“Lots of practice,” she said. “When I was still young, I used to have these dresses made where the skirt was removable. I could just tuck up the petticoat and move a lot better.”

“I see,” he said, trying to imagine it. 

“These days, the fabric is so light,” she said. “Though the shoes are often a total loss.” 

She pulled up the hem of the black gown to reveal shiny black platform pumps. 

“How even?” he asked.

“I learned the hard way that suede was not the way to go,” she said, dropping her hem. In the shoes, she was taller than him, by quite a bit. “You look quite sharp,” she added, maybe an afterthought.

“Thanks for the tux,” he said. “I’ll try not to ruin it.”

“It was James’s, once upon a time. You’re about the same build.”

“Who?

“James Watson,” she said. 

“I’m wearing James Watson’s tuxedo?” Will asked. “That’s awesome!”

Magnus rolled her eyes. 

It was the first time Will had been in Magnus’s Mercedes. They sat in the backseat together - the Sasquatch drove with a fedora on, not that it camouflaged him much. The windows were tinted, though, so if Magnus didn’t worry, Will didn’t either. In the car, he pulled a stake out of his jacket.

“For you,” he said.

“I have some in my bag,” she said. She had a long clutch - it had to be long to accommodate the weaponry. 

“Take it,” he said. She did and held it for a moment, staring at it. It was shorter than the ones she purchased, thicker too.

“It feels… warm?” she asked. “It fits to my hand perfectly.”

“See?” he said. “My stakes are better.” 

“It’s so smooth, too,” she said. “No splinters.” 

“Only the best,” he said.

“It’s good,” she said, leaning forward. “I can keep it here.” And then she proceeded to slide the stake into her cleavage where it disappeared completely. 

He made a noise in the back of his throat, couldn’t help but stare. 

“Sorry,” she said. “Handbags get lost.”

“No, uh-” He cleared his throat. “No need to apologize.” 

Will didn’t get out into New City much - they tended to patrol on foot or travel greater distances than the other side of town, so he looked out the window, forced himself to focus on the cars they passed, the lights of the buildings, the streets lined with trees. It was nicer, here. The event was being held in a hotel, somewhere nice. Magnus had booked them a room - they’d no intention of using it, but they wanted to appear invested in the evening. 

If it wasn’t truly a vampire run organization, they would eat, dance, go home. If it was, however... They could attempt undercover, but most vampires knew the Slayer on sight. Some had been around as long as she had and had lived only by avoiding her. 

What kind of stupid vampire would set up shop in the Slayer’s town?

They pulled up to the curb. Will hopped out and hustled around to open her door. 

“Let’s say midnight unless I call,” she said to her driver, who grunted in response. Outside was a little chilly - it was just edging into fall - but inside was well lit and warm. They were in a ballroom toward the back. While the lobby of the hotel was bright and shimmering, the actual event space was kept dark. There was uplighting in reds and purples and the music sounded like a funeral dirge. 

“Huh,” he said. “Seems a little hokey.” 

“A little,” she said. They moved into the room, found seats near the stage. She kept her bag tucked under her arm. 

“I’ll get us some drinks,” he said. “Try and see what you can sense. If you can pick out anything unusual.”

He moved easily around the room - it wasn’t crowded but there were people, certainly, almost all of them young. No one seemed to be over forty, but while the decor was hokey, the people inside clearly had money. Women in elegant dresses, expensive jewelry and men in suits much finer than his. People spoke in hushed tones.

“Hi,” Will said as he passed people. “Good evening.”

People nodded but no one said anything. 

At the bar, a bartender handed him two flutes pink champagne. It looked off and when it sniffed it, it smelled metallic. Blood. He hoped it wasn't human. He’d take a sample back to the Sanctuary’s lab, but if it was human, the poor donor was likely already dead. Or worse.

“Don’t drink this,” he said, handing a flute to Magnus. 

“Cheers,” she said. It would be an accessory for them. No one would ask if they needed drinks; no one would be suspicious at the lack of rosy hue in their glasses. They would pour it out a little over time. Into a plant, let a napkin absorb a mouthful. 

They split up for awhile. Will was better at listening than anything. He asked vague questions and let people spill their secrets. Women liked to talk to him, even if only about their husband’s wealth.

“He says it’s a good investment,” one woman said, the diamonds around her neck worth more than Will had earned in his entire life. 

“What do you think?” Will asked. He wasn’t sure, exactly, what the investment was. Death?

“Who doesn’t want to live forever?” she asked. 

Ah, immortality. These people, then, were paying to be turned. Not the first time, not even the most devious plan. It seemed glamorous in the long view. They never realized that soul went, too. The part that made them themselves. 

“I’m undecided,” Will said. He kept one eye on Magnus who was across the room. A man was leaning toward, quite far into her personal space. She threw her head back and laughed, one hand on the man’s chest. She was a good actress, as beautiful as any woman in the room. She blended better. Will looked back at his companion. “It’s so expensive.”

“There’s always more money,” the woman said. A philosophy held only by those who’d never been poor, though Will declined to point this out to her.

“Excuse me,” Will said, instead. “I see my wife.” 

He picked his way through the crowd toward Magnus, setting his flute down along the way. The smell was making him ill. The same man was talking to her, though Magnus wasn’t laughing any longer. The man seemed inebriated, now that Will was closer. Obviously, she wasn’t in any real danger but it hurt their undercover operation for her to make a scene. He walked up to her and slid his arm around her waist.

“Darling,” he said. That was it. The man narrowed his eyes and stepped back only half a step. 

“Oh, Mr. Finemore,” she said. “Please excuse us.”

With a little distance, she said, “You can let go now.”

“Sorry,” he said, stepping away. “It seems like people are paying to become vampires.”

“Yes,” she said. “That happens a lot, actually, but I haven’t seen one of these rings round these parts in ten years, probably.”

“Okay, so what do we do?”

“You stay here,” she said. “I’m going to go make a deposit so I can see where they’re taking the people who pay up.”

“I don’t think you should go alone,” he said. 

“Unfortunately, I didn’t bring enough cash for the both of us,” she said. “If I get into trouble, I suspect you’ll know it.” 

“Magnus,” he said. She looked at him, her big blue eyes dark with make-up. “Helen,” he said.

“What?” she asked, a little surprised at his audacity. She suppressed a smirk, he could see it. Better than annoyance, he supposed. 

“Be careful,” he said. 

She patted her breasts, right on the bodice of her dress. “I have this posh stake,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

oooo

Will woke up in the hotel room, his head throbbing. He opened his eyes carefully, rolled his neck enough to see Magnus sitting at the desk, sewing up a gash in her own arm.

“Hey,” he said, sitting up and then thinking quickly better of it, lowering back down to the pillow. His head wasn’t the only thing that hurt.

“Careful,” she said. “You lost a lot of blood.” 

“What happened?” he asked.

“A vampire tried to eat you,” she said. “Don’t worry. I got them all, I think. The police are handling the rest of the people downstairs. The paper will say there was a gas leak or perhaps some sort of bad reaction to a party drug.”

“I’m sorry, did you say a vampire tried to…” He reached up to his neck to feel gauze. He felt quite ill.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “I told you to stay put.” 

“I think… I thought I heard you scream,” he said. He remembered now, the sounds of struggle, bum-rushing the vampire who was acting as security in the next room. The way the had demon blossomed across his face. 

“You were very brave,” she said. She finished her stitching and snipped the thread. 

“We should go to a hospital,” he said. 

“Nonsense.” But he could see that she was tired. Her gown ripped and her exposed skin dirty or bruised, it was hard to say. He sat up more cautiously. 

“How did I get here?” he asked.

She smiled at him. “I had one of the paramedics deliver you. I told him you were my patient.” 

“And you?” he said. “Your arm? What else.”

“You sound like the big guy,” she said. “I cracked a rib. I lost the shoes - predictably - but other than that, fine. This gash was a little deep to heal by morning but I always carry some first aid in my bags.” She picked up the stake that was sitting next to her on the desk. “This was quite splendid. I mean really.”

“A little magic,” he said. “There are runes on it, a summoning spell. It helps you hang onto it better.” 

“Well done, then,” she said. “Ashley is on her way to bring us some clothes and take us home.”

“The vampires,” he said. “How many?”

“Six,” she said. “Well… I had to behead a few of their investors preemptively. Four were just muscle. Two were the brains. A vampire couple I’ve dealt with before. That’s why it all went so pear shaped. I walked in and there was no time to… they knew me. I knew them.”

“I should have been more help,” he said. 

“You were more help than I usually have,” she told him. “Relax, Dr. Zimmerman. I’ve been doing this for a hundred years. You’ve been a field Watcher for two months.” 

There was a knock on the door. 

“That’ll be Ashley,” she said. 

It was Ashley with a black bag over her shoulder. 

“You guys okay?” she asked. 

“We’re fine,” Magnus said.

“Really?” Ashley asked skeptically, looking over Will. “I’ve seen him look better.”

“Something tried to eat me,” Will said.

“Yeah, that actually happens a lot here,” Ashley said. 

“You’ll be a hero among your Watcher friends,” Magnus said. “Getting bitten by a vampire and living to tell the tale is a badge of honor.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he didn’t have friends in the council. That they still thought he was being punished. He felt bad for them, actually, Travers and his lot. They’d never seen a real Slayer in action. It was humbling and beautiful. 

They were cowards. 

“I brought you some clothes, too, Dr. Z,” said Ashley. He’d bled all down the white shirt and though the jacket he wore was dark, it stank of blood, too. He’d lost his bowtie somehow along the way. 

“I used it to staunch the blood flow,” Magnus said, when she saw him feel around his collar. “James will forgive us, I’m sure.” 

Ashley and Magnus locked themselves in the bathroom. He heard the sink run, the toilet flush. He managed to get his jacket and trousers off, but he was still struggling with the buttons of the bloody shirt when they emerged some time later. He felt so tired, a bit woozy. Blood loss and what he was beginning to suspect was a concussion was making him sluggish. Magnus looked at him with concern, covered up in black slacks and a dark gray turtleneck. She still had some visible bruising on her face, but she looked practically fine.

“Come on,” she said. “We’ll help.”

“How extremely embarrassing,” he managed.

“Nonsense,” she said. “I’m a doctor.”

“I’m not,” offered Ashley but a stern look from her mother quieted her down. She finished off his buttons and helped him pull a clean t-shirt over his head. He managed to get into the jeans himself. 

“We’ll put some blood into you when we get home,” Magnus said, kindly. “You’ll perk right up.” 

Will fell asleep in the car, anyway.

oooo

Helen ordered Will to stay in the infirmary and then relented, letting him write his report on the activities of the previous night from his own bed. 

She felt badly, nagging guilt about how severely he’d been injured. She’d played it off at the time, of course, clinical and stern, but she’d been so relieved when he’d woken up. Maybe she hadn’t wanted him around in the first place, but now he was here and she certainly didn’t want him to die two months into the job. She’d just finally gotten him access to their databases, an email. She was starting to get used to him.

She sat in her office, looked at the stake he’d carved for her, the runes stained into the side. She’d spent so long pinning the blame on the Watchers Council that she’d forgotten why they existed in the first place. To help.

“Mom?” Ashley came in, leather head to foot, dark eyes. It was just getting late. “I’m going out.”

“I see that,” she said. “Where?”

“Downtown,” she said. 

“Alone?”

“No,” she said. “I’m meeting friends, it’ll be fine.”

“Old or new downtown?” she asked.

Ashley hesitated; Helen frowned. “Mom, I’m 22, I’m not going to get hurt!”

“You get hurt all the time, we all do,” Helen said. “I don’t like you going out at night in that part of town.”

“So your plan is to keep me locked up in here for my whole life?” she asked.

“No, my plan is for you to go out in the daylight,” Helen said. “You know how hard I work to keep everyone safe.”

“I work hard too,” Ashley said. “For you! Do you know how many 22-year-olds live with their moms? It’s embarrassing - I shouldn’t have a damn curfew.”

“Most 22-year-olds aren’t intimately familiar with what goes bump in the night,” Helen countered. 

“Screw this,” Ashley said. “I’m leaving whether or not you’re worried.”

“Ashley!” Helen called but she was already halfway down the hall and then she heard a door slam. “Damn it all.”

It was difficult to balance everything, though it wasn’t something she liked to admit, especially to herself. Maybe Ashley was right, it was time to stop treating her like a teenager and more like an adult. But Helen was right as well - this town was crawling with dangerous creatures and Ashley was almost as infamous as Helen herself. A target for sure. 

She saved her work on her computer and shut it off for the night. It wasn’t that late, but the fight at the hotel had taken it out of her and maybe even if she couldn’t sleep, she’d try and rest. She headed to the kitchen to fix herself a mug of tea and to poke around for a biscuit.

Will was there, standing in front of the open refrigerator. 

“You should be in bed,” Helen chided softly. 

“I think I’m hungry,” he said. 

“Sit down,” she said, pointing to one of the stools at the breakfast bar. He did, easing himself onto the stool. She pulled out some orange juice and poured him a glass. She’d given him some blood, but it would help increase production of his own blood. He knew it too, didn’t argue. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“Magnus, it’s-”

“I’ll eat one too,” she said. 

“You? Willingly eat food?” he asked. “What happened?”

"Nothing happened," she said. "I'm a person, I eat food."

"Okay," he said, clearly not buying it. She wasn't exactly selling it well, to be fair to them both. She sighed, pulled the mustard and sliced ham out of the big, stainless steel refrigerator. Bread from the bread box, a clean knife from the drawer. 

"Ashley and I had a small disagreement."

"Oh," he said. "Well, that's fairly normal, right? Mothers and daughters."

"She's just careless," Helen said. "Going out in the dark, riding that wretched motorcycle, fighting and buying weapons from anyone who sells them and..."

"Doing the job you pay her for?" he cut in. "I mean, it's my understanding that she oversees weapons acquisitions and the armory, that fighting is an asset in your line of work."

Helen closed her mouth, furious, and then, of course, felt foolish. "Everyone knows she my daughter. She doesn't have to make herself an easy target."

"I don't have children," Will said, a wise preface. "But anyone who knows anything about you or Ashley knows she's not an easy target."

"Fine," Helen said, turning back to her ingredients. "I just worry."

"She worries about you, too, you know," he said. "All the slaying, all on your own."

"You come with me now," she said. 

"You'd be better off with her and you know it," he said with a laugh.

"I won't risk that," Helen said firmly. 

"No one is asking you to," he said. "But it's good to see things from other perspectives once in awhile."

"Psychiatrists," she said, cutting his sandwich in half. "Just awful."

"Sorry," he said, taking the plate. "You're the one who wanted me to talk to the residents."

"I didn't mean me," she said. 

She didn't feel much better, but she had to admit she knew he was right, that it was difficult for Ashley too. She made herself a sandwich, as promised, and sat next to him. He was eating slowly, obviously fatigued, but his color was better, at any rate.

"I'm sorry you got hurt," she said, when he caught her staring. "It's a hazard of knowing me."

"You know," he said. "Getting close to you isn't a one-way ticket to death."

She didn't say anything.

"This town would be dangerous whether or not you lived in it. Vampires will always take lives. Demons have power. You fight the battles that you can, but you can't protect everyone."

"I know that," she said. 

"I wonder," he said. And then, he abruptly shook his head. "Never mind." 

"No," she said. "Just ask."

"You could... I don't know... have you thought about dying?"

"What?" 

"Not killing yourself, I don't mean suicide, don't get me wrong, I just meant stopping your heart long enough to have another Slayer called. Sharing your burden." He squinted at her and she realized he wasn't wearing his glasses. "That's a terrible question, never mind."

"I have, of course," she said. "But think of all the girls I've saved, Will. A slayer fights an average of what? Five years? Think of them all, all those women." She shakes her head. "I can't give up. I've got to do this as long as I can."

"Me too, then," he said. "As long as I can. It might seem like... a handful of years to you, but it's... it's what I can give." 

She stared at him, moved by his words. 

"What do they think of you? The Council, I mean?" she asked.

He laughed. "What do you think?" he asked, dryly.

She bumped his shoulder with hers. "You won me over," she admitted. "They must hate you."

"Before, they just thought I was insubordinate and silly," he said. "But now, I'm sure they hate me."

Helen smiled. 

oooo

Will drove around back to the garage entrance. There was the big massive front gate but the smaller gate was more convenient for parking - no one had told him this, of course, but he’d found the remote control that opened it attached to the visor and had figured it out from there. 

He’d gone out - it was Sunday. He set his own schedule, supposedly, though he basically was at Magnus’s beck and call. She seemed to lie low on Sundays, they all did, so he always tried to get out of the Sanctuary if only to try a new restaurant or see a movie or buy himself a treat. Today, he'd gone to the library at the university to see their collection, if there were any texts on the history of the area that may help him one day, but if there were, they weren't in the general browsing collection. Will found that cities with the highest rates of demonic activity prefered to keep the wool over their eyes. Perhaps he could make a few contacts in the history department, find a way in.

He reached up to the visor and pressed the button. The gate didn't open - he shook the remote and tried again, but nothing. He parked the car in front of it and got out. He lifted cover to the keypad and entered his code - it worked at the front but apparently not at this gate because it buzzed softly at him and a little light blinked red. He stared at the light, brow furrowed. That was unusual. 

He looked up at the big, dark mansion. He could hear, distantly, the wail of a siren.

The Sanctuary was on lockdown. 

He moved his car so it was parked parallel to the wall and locked it. He was blocking access to the alley but not, at least, the gate. Then, he jumped onto the hood of the car and boosted himself up onto the wall. He couldn't see much from this far away - the closest wing of the house to him here was residential. The parking garage was underground, it shared a wall with the SHU and he had to walk through a long corridor to even get to the house. 

Sitting on the wall, he pulled out his phone and tried to call Magnus, but the call wouldn't even connect which meant the EM shield was on. Great. 

It was a long way down to the hard ground, but he didn't have a lot of options, so he relaxed and let himself drop.

He grunted - the air knocked out of his body and he laid there a moment, gaping like a fish before he could suck air back into his lungs. He gave himself a few more moments to breathe and then got himself to his feet, ignoring the dull pain behind his eyes. He had to think about how to get in, first, and how to arm himself, second. Magnus tended to walk around armed all the time, pulling her handgun or a stunner from mysterious places in her perfectly tailored outfit. Or at the very least, she always could let a stake drop out of her sleeve. Will probably should start doing the same - all he had was a cross in the inner pocket of his jacket. 

The access door to get into the parking tunnel was locked but there was a small window at ground level, an egress window probably, though not exactly up to current code. It, too, was locked or at least rusted shut, but he kicked it in and the glass shattered. He kicked as much of the broken glass out of the frame as he could and slipped in, his boots crunching on the broken glass below. 

All the vehicles except for his were parked in their designated spaces. He pulled open the passenger door of Magnus's Mercedes and opened the glove box to find an old revolver. 

He sighed and checked the chamber. At least it was loaded. He took it and went down the long corridor at a run.

Maybe something had escaped their enclosure. Maybe an intake had gone awry. Maybe Henry was updating a security system and lockdown was a precaution to protect a vulnerable system. Those were all reasonable explanations. Still, he had a bad feeling in his gut and as he approached the access door to the house, he slowed down. He called for the elevator but the power was off, so he took the stairs up into the foyer. 

He opened the door slowly and as quietly as he could. The alarm was louder here, in the house, wailing in long pulses. It was seriously annoying and meant to notify people that something was wrong. It was a bad sign that no one had silenced it yet. 

There was a broken vase by the stairs and further down, a smashed end table. 

He followed the trail.

A crooked painting along the wall, a bullet lodged in the plaster. He was getting closer to her office. It was concerning him that he couldn't hear anything except the loud alarm, no voices, no sounds of struggle. Had he missed it all? Was it over?

Around the corner, there was an access panel in the wall behind one of the drapes. He pushed it aside and called up the SHU - none of the enclosures were open and that system seemed to be secure, which was good. It mean no abnormal was going to eat him in the next few minutes, he hoped. But where was Henry and Ashley? Where was the big guy? Where was his Slayer?

It was a risk to silence the alarm but he took it - he had to think and the ear splitting wail was seriously hampering his ability to formulate any sort of plan. He let the curtain cover the access panel and put his gun back up.

He heard a buzz, like something electrical shorting out and the air smelled acrid. He turned, confused, and where there was nothing, before, stood a tall man.

"Watcher," he said, and then lashed out.

There was a burst of pain and then, blissfully, unconsciousness.

oooo

"Hey!" 

He knew that voice, he did. It was the daughter. What was her name - the pain in his head swelled up and he tried to chase the sleep again. 

"Dr. Z, come on, man, you gotta come to."

He knew that voice, too. He opened his eyes to see blue eyes, blonde hair. Ashley. She had a black eye and blood in her hair. And Henry, peering down at him, too.

"There he is," Henry said. "Will, what happened?"

He tried to sit up and then leaned over, vomited.

"Ew," Ashley said.

"Better out than in," Henry said. Will wiped his mouth and then tried again. The pain was pretty bad but he was afraid to reach up and touch his head. Afraid of what he might find when he pulled his hand away again.

"You got clocked pretty good, doc," Ashley said. "You'll be okay. Try not to go to sleep again."

"Where are we?" Will asked, finally, looking around.

"SHU," Henry said. "He dumped us in here." 

"What?" Will asked.

"Did you see him?" Ashley asked.

"Who?" 

"The dude that hit you upside the head so hard you puked," Ashley said.

"Yeah," Will said. "I think. For a second. He came out of nowhere. Who was that?"

"I don't know," Ashley said. "I think Mom does, though. She activated the lockdown."

"How did... he get in?" Will asked. 

"We don't know," Henry said.

"Where's the Sasquatch?" Will asked. Ashley wrinkled her nose. 

"Not with us," Henry said. 

"Where's Magnus?" Will asked, trying to stand. "We have to find her."

"We've been trying to get out of here for hours," Henry said. "I don't have my tablet, we don't have any weapons. These things aren't designed to be easy to get out of."

"Okay," Will said. He finally touched his temple and it all felt sticky. Ashley winced sympathetically. He looked at his fingers - some blood, but it seemed like most of it had clotted. The headache would never go away. They were in a holding pen, not an enclosure designed for a specific abnormal. There was a cot, a large window. They were close to the lab. They had an intercom, at least. "Can you at least get us access to the com systems?" He pointed to the wall.

"I can try," Henry said with a shrug.

"What good will that do?" Ashley asked.

"We can try to talk to him," Will said. "Or at least tell your mom where we are." 

"I guess," she said.

"Do you think we could get an outside line?"

"Not through the EM shield," Henry said. 

"Oh," Will said and reached for the inside of his coat. His revolver was gone, but he'd tucked his phone away and it was still there, next to the cross. He pulled it out and handed it to Henry. "This could help."

"Now we are talking!" Henry took it and immediately popped the back off to expose the circuitry. 

"Tell me what happened," Will said to Ashley. "I was gone for three hours, tops."

"Um," she said. "We ate brunch. Henry went to his lab, Big guy went to do chores, I guess. I went to the armory. My inventory was off last week and I wanted to see if there were any more discrepancies. Anything else missing. I turned around and he was just there. Which was super weird because I was locked in, so..."

"He appeared out of thin air," Will said.

"Abnormal?" Henry asked.

"Maybe," she said. "Anyway, he didn't say much. Asked about my mom but when I tried to put a sword in him, he gave me this." She pointed to her eye. "Then I was here."

"What about you?" Will asked Henry. "You seem significantly less injured than the rest of us."

Henry had dismantled both the phone and the intercom and was trying to marry the two systems. 

"I was already down here. I saw Ashley in here, opened the door... like a dumb moth to a flame." He shook his head. "I'm stupid."

"Lucky," Will said. "Glad you aren't hurt."

"Me too," he agreed. 

"I think we have to worry that this man isn't abnormal," Will said.

"You think he's a demon," Ashley said. 

"I think it's a real possibility," he said. 

Over at the door, Henry cursed. "I don't have enough power to trigger a short in the locking mechanism."

"I can give you some power," Will said. 

"You have a battery in your special pocket?" Henry asked. "Don't hold out on me now."

"No," he said. He walked over to where Henry had combined the two systems and held his hand over them. " _Unus fulgo concidens noctem - in mea manu ens inimicum edat_! _Fulguratio Albicans_!"

A bolt of white hot energy came from his palm, scorching the skin on his hand but kicking the tech into high gear. It emitted a high pitch whine and then shorted out. The lock clicked. 

"Jesus hopscotching Christ!" Ashley said. "What was that?"

"Something only to use in emergencies," Will said, cradling his hand. Henry pushed open the door and the made their way into the hall. "We need weapons."

"You got it, Dumbledore," Ashley said. "Follow me."

"Maybe some first aid, if there's time," Henry whispered, glancing at Will with a worried crease in his brow. "If you're gonna puke again, puke away from me."

"Nothing left to puke," Will said, trying to reassure them.

Ashley went into her mother's labratory and came back with two stunners and a stake. "This is all I could find." She gave Will the stake and Henry a stunner. 

"Not exactly fair," he muttered.

"Yeah, well, now I know you're a wizard," she said.

"Not a wizard, just a Watcher," he corrected. 

oooo

Helen woke up in her own bed and thought, with great relief, that it had all been just a terrible dream. But when she moved, she realized that her arms were above her head and her wrists were bound. 

"Shit," she said.

"Now," came a voice from the darkness. "What would your father think of such foul language?"

She tensed, nervous. He’d already knocked her out, tied her up. Her arms were extended out and up - tied to the headboard then. Not very creative. She could probably get out of it, but she’d splinter the bed to pieces and it was an antique. He knew all this, of course. Knew she’d ruin the bed for her freedom. Cruel, really. It was a lovely piece. 

“My father is long dead, John,” she said. “And was never a fan of you to begin with so I think he’d be on my side in this situation.”

He chuckled, a low, dry sound like metal scraping concrete.

“I’d like for you to let me go,” she said as calmly as she could. The problem with John was that he was just as strong as she was, especially with adrenaline and anger fueling him. He was smart, too, highly intelligent and tactical. He could be charming, when he wanted to be, ruthless always. It’s why she had fallen in love with him so many years ago. It many ways, he was her equal. But whatever parasite was inside of him, making him lose control, it was something she could not live with. It was something that brought John back to her, though, again and again. John may have loved her once, but whatever lived inside of him most certainly did not. 

“I shan't,” he said. “Not until I have my fill.”

“I don’t want to fight,” Helen said. “Please. I can help you. We can work through this.”

“We never have before,” he said. His voice was still low, still conversational but it was moving closer. She could almost see him, now, could make out his shape in the darkness. She braced her arms - the wood of her headboard creaked. 

“My blood,” she said. “It’s helped you before. It can help you again.”

“It certainly will,” he said.

“John,” she said. “Turn on the light. I want to see you.”

“Can’t you see me in the darkness? I can see you better this way,” he said.

The back of her neck tingled, a little, an uncomfortable buzz. Like an alarm.

“I haven’t seen your face in years,” she said. “Come closer.”

“As you wish,” he said. He stepped out of the shadow and into what little light the room had to offer. He clicked on a small lamp on her nightstand. And it was, after all, just John. Tall, bald but regal still. Well dressed, exquisite posture. He looked down at her and his eyes were narrow and cold. 

Then he changed. It was always unsettling to watch - on any face, let alone one she knew so well. It was grotesque watching the very shape of someone change, watching the skin rise and sink, the eyes go dark, the teeth elongate. The host only a puppet, the words an echo of what once was. 

“Oh, John,” she said. 

She could always just turn away from his wrong doings before, even the murders. Humans murdered each other all the time at a rate far higher than she could do anything about. And abnormals she could protect.

But vampires - vampires she had to slay. 

Did he have a death wish? Coming here like this? Or did he want to kill her, instead, drink her blood and carry her corpse around like a trophy. She could think of worse things he’d do to her corpse besides carry it. 

John seemed unperturbed about this new development. He was certainly stronger, even, than he had been before. 

“I’ve finally found a way for us to be together, Helen,” he said. “To fix mistakes we made long ago.” 

She didn’t say anything. There would be no reasoning with him, only violence. She had to wait for an opening. For the first time in a very long time, she was uncertain as to whether or not she’d be walking away from this encounter. 

She hoped that Ashley wasn’t home, that she stayed away. That she never realized who her father truly was.

“I don’t want to be with you,” she said, finally.

“Oh,” he said. “But you will.”

She yanked hard and wood splintered above her.

oooo

Will had never seen Helen so beat up before. He wanted to take her to a hospital or, hell, call an ambulance but she wouldn’t allow it. The trouble was, she was the medical doctor and while he, of course, did a few rotations at a hospital in med school, that was awhile ago. She had to talk him through everything, which seemed difficult. 

“What if your face is broken?” he said.

“Doesn’t feel broken,” she managed, though she got the words out only through clenched teeth. He looked so skeptical that she relented a bit. “We’ll do x-rays.” 

“What if you asked someone to come help you run this place while you recover?” he asked.

“You’re here,” she said.

“That’s touching, but I don’t know the first thing about how this place works,” he admitted. “There are other Sanctuaries? Yes? With other heads of house?”

“Yes,” she said. 

“Perhaps you call someone,” he said. 

“Don’t baby me,” she snapped. He said nothing, admitted to nothing. He was cleaning the wounds on her face first, disinfecting, and then ointment and bandages. The likelihood of her scarring was low, but he wanted her face to look best. Then he’d clean out the scrapes on her arms, wrap her ribs if she’d let him. Clean out the bites, certainly. 

“Shall we talk about Mr. Druitt, then?” he asked. 

“I could call James,” she said, clearing avoiding the subject. “He could spare Declan.” 

He was tired of her mumbling through an obviously sore jaw, so he paused his ministrations to find an ice pack in the kit he was working from. He squeezed it, shook it, and handed it to her. 

“Jaw,” he said. She took it, eased it against her entire mouth. She hurt more than she was letting on. 

“I’m going to put some butterfly bandages on this gash,” he said. “Just for the record, if you were anyone else, I’d make you get stitches.”

She mumbled something. 

“What?”

She took down the ice pack and said, “Noted.”

She was down to slacks and a tank top. She’d bled through her shirt, lost her shoes. She’d throw everything she had on into the garbage when they were done here. 

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s have a look at the rest of you. You want to try to take this off or shall we cut it?”

She glared at him for a moment but then, seemed to work through the scenario in her mind and said, “Cut it.”

There were scissors in the kit, so he cut down her back and had to ease the fabric away from her side where clotting blood and made it stick to her skin. 

“How are your legs?” he asked.

“Fine, Dr. Zimmerman,” she said. 

“No bleeding?” he asked.

“I don’t believe so.”

“I hate to ask, Dr. Magnus,” he went back to using her title because she had used his - perhaps the distance was helping to make this intimate experience seem more clinical. “But did he hurt you… did he sexually assault you?”

“No,” she said and this at least was loud and clear. 

“Good,” he said. He tried to ignore the bra, ignore the skin revealed. She was a mass of bruises; blood from her neck wound had dripped down to under her arms and in between her breasts. “This is quite deep. How much did he take?” 

“Enough,” she said. “I had to let him take some or I was never going to…” 

“Hey,” he said when she didn’t go on. “It’s all right.”

“It’s not!” she said. “I let him escape. He got into my home, he hurt my family, he injured me and I didn’t even kill him.” 

“He’s no ordinary vampire,” Will said. “I’m glad we got there when we did.” 

“He had this… metal chest piece,” she said. “I couldn’t get a clean shot in with the stake. Clever, actually. He was always quite smart.” 

He cleaned her neck, dabbed on the antiseptic. It had to sting, though she didn’t react. It was still bleeding - bite wounds often took a long time to heal, even on a slayer. He pressed some gauze to it and held it there. 

“So this isn’t the first time you’ve encountered this Mr. Druitt?” Will asked. 

“No,” she said. “Not at all. John and I met at Oxford.” 

“Oh,” Will said, confused. 

“Him being a vampire is new,” she admitted. 

“But if you knew him during the Victorian era…” Will said. 

“He shares his body with an abnormal that gives him longevity,” she said.

“And now a vampire?” Will asked. “That’s a lot of stuff for one body.” 

“Too much,” she said. “He was mad before but this was so cavalierly destructive. He came to sire me.” 

“He didn’t,” Will said. “He won’t.” 

“He’ll come back.” 

He taped down the gauze and then looked her over. The rest could wait until after a shower. 

“Let’s do the x-rays,” he said. 

She nodded but didn’t move. “Will,” she said.

“What is it?” he asked. 

“John is Ashley’s father,” she said. 

_Ah_ , Will thought. More than just a vampire, then. She wasn’t terribly forthcoming about her past and now he could see why. Apparently between Tesla, John Watson, and now this John Druitt, a great deal of her past was still her present. There would be other surprises, he was sure. 

“Does she know?” he asked. 

“No.”

“Well,” he said, helping her off the cot and toward the x-ray machine. “Maybe you should tell her?”

She shook her head. “What good would that do?” 

He didn’t have an answer for that. 

Ashley came after a while to escort her mother back to her rooms. 

“She needs a shower and then I’d like to check some of her wounds and redress them,” Will said. “She may need help.”

“Okay,” Ashley said. “I’ll call you when we’re ready.” 

“I can hear you both,” Helen muttered. “Not dead.”

“Thank GOD,” Ashley turned, snapping at her. “We we worried sick! And look at you! This does not work for me, mom, this is not good! Things are going to change around here, you hear me?”

Ashley berated her mother all the way down the hall and into to the elevator, and though Will couldn’t hear it any longer, he was certain Helen would get an earful for some time. 

There was a reason, of course, that the Watchers Council removed young potentials from their families. Families often became targets, families were a weakness for soldiers. For girls that were supposed to be killing machines. But Helen’s daughter softened her up a bit and Will thought it was in a good way. Ashley anchored her. For now. 

About an hour later, Will got a text to come to Helen’s room. He’d never been, of course, but he knew where it was. Big wooden double doors, stained dark and glossy. She had a doorbell to her bedroom - which led him to suspect that her quarters were probably more like a large apartment within the hulking girth of the Sanctuary. 

He rang the bell and after several moments, Ashley opened the door, looking haggard and pale except for the dark bruising around her eye.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said. “Yes. Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“We’ll make it quick,” he promised. He had the kit and in it, some pain killers. Slayers tended to metabolize things rather quickly, so they were strong. He hoped, if anything, they’d help her get to sleep. 

Helen was on her bed, propped up on several pillows. The headboard behind her was broken and there was obvious signs of struggle in the room. An end table still overturned, broken lamp, a gash in the silk wallpaper. He could see where Ashley had piled the wood from the old bed on the floor by the wall to clear off the mattress for her mother. 

Her hair was wet and she was in clean tank top and soft pants. 

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be right as rain by morning.”

Ashley hovered. Will set his kit at the foot of the bed, opened it, found the bottle of pills.

“Oh I don’t think…” Helen started.

“Take them,” Ashley said, cutting her off. “Please, mom.”

“Fine,” she said. 

Her neck was the most serious wound. Everything else seemed to have stopped bleeding, even started to heal already but the bite on her neck was angry, swollen, mottled, still seeping blood and whatever else came from that kind of wound. He put on gloves, dabbed more ointment on it.

“It stings,” Helen said.

“It’s got a holy water base,” Will said. “I made it myself.”

“Ew,” Ashley said, though she looked a little impressed.

“It helps neutralize the venom from the bite and allows her healing to get some footing,” Will said.

“I mean,” Ashley said, walking around and sitting on the other side of the bed, sliding on and sitting close to her mom. “He is kind of handy to have around. He magicked us right out of that holding cell.” 

“See?” Helen said. “I told you you’d get used to him.”

“I’m going to add some gauze now,” Will said, ignoring their conversation. 

“How… I mean how did that guy get away?” Ashley asked. “He just like disappeared.”

“Ah,” Helen said. “The EM shield was keeping him trapped. When Henry reset the system, he could escape out of any enclosure.”

“Henry took down the shields earlier to do maintenance,” Ashley said.

“Then that’s when he got in,” Helen said, frowning. “We have scheduled maintenance times for a reason, Henry knows that.”

“Well, he didn’t know about the teleporting super vamp. He won’t make that mistake twice, I bet,” Ashley said, reaching out and holding her mother’s hand. 

“None of us will,” Helen said softly. 

“But what about when we leave?” Ashley asked. “When you go fight vamps and stuff? You can’t stay in here forever.”

“There are things we can do to make her harder to find,” Will said. “Precautions.” 

He finished taping up her wound and then shook pills out into his gloved hand. 

“I really don’t think...” she tried again.

“It’s not optional,” he said. “Take them, get some rest.”

“Look, this is my house, I am in charge-”

“I’m your Watcher, I know what’s best for an injured Slayer-”

“Don’t be ridiculous-”

“Hey,” Ashley said. She was looking out the window. “It’s snowing!”

They both turned and looked at the window and then glanced at each other. It was snowing and he could see Helen looking him over, his bruises, the way he held his left arm close to his body. 

Her dream had foretold this, hadn’t it? The snow, his injuries, the Blake poem. John was the direful monster easily enough. Helen’s expression told him that she was having the same train of thought.

“I’ll look into it,” he said. 

“Huh?” Ashley said, but Helen nodded. Took her pills. Settled back against the pillows, wincing only a little.

“I’ll check on you in a few hours,” he said, and let himself out.

With Helen taken care of and Henry working on righting the security systems, Will gave himself a moment to wallow in the fact that he felt like absolute shit. But he steeled himself against it. He needed to write out a quick report and send it off to the Council so they could begin compiling background research on John Druitt and so they knew that there was a new, dangerous vampire player in town. 

But when he opened the door, he saw the Big Guy standing in the hall.

“I’m uh, I’m glad you’re okay,” Will said. He’d been down doing laundry when the lockdown had occurred and it had basically trapped him in that section of the house.

“Come with me,” he grunted. 

“I have a little more work, actually,” Will said, but the Sasquatch shook his head.

“I’ll clean you up,” he said. “Infection.”

Will had taken some tylenol and hastily wrapped up his own hand where the magic had scorched his skin.

“Okay,” he said. So he followed him down to the infirmary and sat on the cot where he’d been helping Helen only an hour before. The Big Guy pulled some gloves out of a box marked extra large and maneuvered them onto his hands. “I didn’t know you had medical training.”

“She’s a good teacher,” he said. “Hold still.”

The cleaning of his head wound didn’t feel great and by the time it was over, his headache was back, pounding in his temples, behind his eyes, down the back of his neck. His glasses had been damaged in the first struggle - he’d be wearing his contacts from now on, it looked like. 

The Big Guy unwound the gauze that covered his hand and removed it as gently as he could. Will still hissed with pain as it was pulled away from the skin.

“Burn?” he asked.

“The price of the spell,” Will explained. “Power is always costly.” 

He grunted in agreement and set to work cleaning Will’s hand.

oooo

Helen doubled her patrols, going out as soon as the sun set, staying out later and later. Will drove them around town in an effort to cover more ground. They patrolled cemeteries, waterfronts, abandoned warehouses. It was Will who suggested patrolling the university campus. He’d been researching the area and had noticed the unusually high dropout rate. 

“Dropping out or getting eaten?” he’d asked. 

And he’d been right - the place had the stink of vampires all over. It took her over three weeks to clean the place up - for the word to spread that Slayer meant business. 

She asked a lot of the vampires about John before she staked them. None of them talked, of course, but most seemed unsurprised at the mention of him. Seemed to know who she was talking about. She worried he was amassing an army. She worried that he would do what most vampires were naturally no good at - organize. 

Three large crates came, delivered for Will, and she signed for them. He slept a lot during the day, now, since they stayed out for so much of the night. They were large enough and heavy enough that she left them in the foyer and made a mental note to mention it to him if she saw him during the day.

It was the early afternoon when he knocked on her office door.

“Ah,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he said. 

It’d been long enough that his face had healed up nicely as had all her wounds, but it still snowed. Snow in January, February maybe, wouldn’t be terribly out of place but it was only November. Early November. It was all the news stations could report on. And, if it seemed to melt a little, it just froze and iced over again at night and then fresh powder would fall making things treacherous. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, sitting in one of the chairs across from her. 

“Giving Henry and Ashley raises,” she said.

“Really?” he asked. 

“They’ve been taking on so much of the day to day work of the Sanctuary because of our increased patrols that it seems only right.” She frowned looking at her computer screen. Everything was backlogged. “I’ve been thinking about bringing on a new hire.” 

“Wow,” he said. 

“I don’t like it,” she amended. “But until we figure out what John is up to and stop him, that has to be my primary focus.” 

“I was thinking of going to the university again today,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “There’s a professor there who agreed to meet with me from the anthropology department, Professor Mihailiuk.”

“What do you think that will accomplish?” she asked.

“I think that they probably have some books that you and I don’t have that could help us and I need to make nice with someone who knows where that special collection is kept,” he said. “You have a fine library, Helen, but it’s clear your interests are in abnormals and not demons.”

“Oh!” she said. “You got a delivery, speaking of. Didn’t you send for your library?”

“Yeah,” he said. 

“Well it’s downstairs,” she said. “Have someone help you, Henry perhaps. He can find you a dolley, at least. And let me know how your appointment goes.” 

He nodded. “Will do, boss.”

oooo

Will put on his best tweed, the suit he’d worn over from England. Ashley spotted him as he left; she was standing in the doorway of the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal despite the fact that it was three in the afternoon. 

“Have a good day at school, champ,” she said.

“Very funny,” he said. He wasn’t sure how she knew what he was doing - if her mother had mentioned it or if she made a habit of looking at his calendar. Both seemed unlikely. Maybe she was just plain making fun of him and had managed to get it close to right. 

It felt a little strange, the suit, though it was a good choice for the meeting and also because it was warm. But he was surprised how he’d acclimated to this more urban, active life. He’d bulked up a little and the sleeves of the suit felt tight. All the fighting and the training were doing him a favor. Most of the clothes that had come in his delivery he’d never wear. But his winter coat had been among them and he was happy to have it - dark wool, deep pockets. He put it on before he went down to the parking garage. 

He drove slowly to the campus and then took his time finding parking. It had snowed again in the night and though Helen hadn’t said anything about it to him and he had yet to mention it to her, he was beginning to suspect there was something supernatural about this weather. It felt like everytime warmer weather started to get a foothold, another sudden cold front would come in and freeze everything up again. It was too soon to know for sure, but come spring, there had to be a thaw, right?

Professor Mihailiuk’s office was up on the third floor and Will took the wooden stairs instead of the ancient looking elevator. Students rushed around him with huge backpacks and tired eyes. Everyone seemed frazzled and cold and in a hurry. Probably almost finals time. 

He found the office and knocked lightly on the door, pushed it open when he heard a voice call, “Come in!”

The professor was younger than Will expected, maybe only seven or eight years older than he was, and he smiled at Will when he walked in.

“You must be Dr. Zimmerman,” he said, standing and coming around a large wooden desk. He had a slight slavic sounding accent, just a hint, like he’d lived longer here than anywhere else.

“Will,” he said. He reached out his hand. The professor shook it.

“Andrei Mihailiuk,” he said.

“Thanks so much for seeing me,” Will said. 

“Well it is not often I get contacted by anyone other than grad students,” he said. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thanks,” Will said, sitting. 

“Your email was vague, Doctor,” Andrei said. “You are interested in our rare books collection?”

“Yes,” he said. “Well, I am interested to know what kind of collection you have that hasn’t been catalogued for public viewing.”

“Ah,” he said. “That really is more a question for Ingrid, the head of the library.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “But I hear you have an interest in Ancient infrastructure?”

“Correct,” he said.

“That’s really why I chose you to contact,” Will said. “I was hoping maybe you knew a little something about here. About Old City. About how it was built.”

Andrei raised an eyebrow, a thoughtful gesture. “An interesting query. I specialize in Imperial Rome but… let me talk to Ingrid,” he said. “If she can get me the right resources, it could be an interesting project to take on. I know Old Town was settled in the 1860s by an English sailor but surely there were indigenous people here before that.”

“Surely,” Will said. “I’m interested in anything you find - structures underground, or anything religious. I want to know what this town was built on, literally - if it was built over anything.” 

“Why?” Andrei asked. “Are you looking for something specific?”

“Maybe,” he said. “If your librarian finds any resources on the past, I’ll come do the research myself.”

“All right,” Andrei said. “I shall ask her. Was there anything else?”

“One more question. Do you know anything about Mount Hekla?” Will asked. “It’s a volcano in Iceland.”

The professor stared at him for a moment, a long moment where it seemed like maybe he did know about it but then he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Not familiar.”

“All right,” Will said. “Well thank you.”

“I will be in touch,” he said. “Perhaps not until after finals, though.”

“Fair enough,” Will said with a smile.

oooo

John left her a gift. 

“There isn’t any way to know it’s him,” Will said. They stood at the gate to the Sanctuary where the body was. She’d seen it from the car - John had left a reflector on the corpse so it wouldn’t be missed. A blonde girl, 19 or 20 maybe; a prostitute. 

“It’s him,” Helen said. Some things, some tastes, would never change. He’d bitten her throat wide open.

“We should call the police,” Will said. 

“She’ll turn,” Helen said, shaking her head. “I’ll have to kill her.” Best not to involve the authorities, then.

Still. “What if someone is looking for her?” Will asked.

“Unfortunately,” Helen said, crouching down to get a better look at her face. “These aren’t the kind of girls that people usually are looking for. Not when they go missing, anyway.”

“What should we do?” he asked.

“Let’s get her inside. If she wakes up, maybe she’ll have something to say.” Helen looked up at him. 

“All right,” he said. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save her,” Helen said. "I'm sorry she'll have to die twice."

She reached for her phone and called Henry, asked for him to bring the van to the front gates. When he arrived he looked at the poor girl with a wrinkled nose.

"She smells," he said.

"Dude, little respect for the dead," Will said.

"No, I mean," Henry said. "Like something other than being extremely dead."

"It's the venom," Helen said. "You can smell her turning."

"Really?" Will asked. "I've never... I didn't know that."

"Watchers are experts on Slayers, not vampires," Helen said. "And your council is over 100 years out of date."

"Can you smell it?" Henry asked.

Helen shook her head. "Nikola always could, though. He couldn't infect people, he was genetically a pure vampire, not the half breeds that are so numerous today, but he could... he could always spot vampires even better than I could."

Will and Henry loaded the girl into the back of the van. 

"Put her in the SHU," Helen instructed. "When she wakes up, give her a pint of cow's blood. I'd like to talk to her and she won't talk if she's hungry." 

"Got it," Henry said. “By the way - Ashley said she found someone to hire. She wants to talk to you.” 

Helen sighed. “It’s nearly three am. It can wait until morning.” 

Henry muttered as he got in the van. “Didn’t mind waking me up at three am,” he said and then turned on the engine.

“There, there,” Helen said, knocking on the side of the van. 

Will opened Helen’s door for her so he could drive them into the parking garage. She felt tired now, worn out, deflated.

“We’ll find him,” Will reassured her. 

“I’m not worried about that,” she said. “I’m worried about him finding us first.” 

She didn’t like not knowing what was coming. Inside, Will kept pace with her and when she paused like she was going to head for her office instead of her bedrooms, he cleared his throat pointedly. 

“In the morning, then,” she said and they parted ways. 

She still triple-checked every security system anyway, just in case. 

She woke up to knocking on her door, startled out of sleep, startled to have slept at all. She pulled on her robe, opened the door. Will was there with a mug of tea for her, already showered and dressed, the show off. 

She took the tea - it was perfect.

“What time is it?”

“Just after six,” he said apologetically. “I’d let you sleep, but our new friend is awake.” 

“Okay,” she said, tiredly. “Okay, yes. Just let me…”

“I’ll meet you down there,” he said. 

No shower, but she did wash her face, pull back her hair into a silver clip, put on a little mascara. Jeans and boots and her leather jacket - things that felt more like armor than clothing. Things she wore to work - things designed to keep her safe. She made sure she had a stunner and one of Will’s stakes and almost forgot the tea he’d brought her, but she carried that along too, finishing it in the elevator on the way down to the SHU.

Ashley was there, dressed as well which was a minor miracle. She didn’t look happy to be awake, but it seemed like Will had gotten everyone out of bed. 

The dead girl was certainly no longer dead, sitting in her holding pen, draining her bag of animal blood. When she finished, she threw the empty bag against the glass where they were all standing around watching her. Her clothes were filthy and bloodstained still, but her neck was clean and whole. 

“Do you have something to tell me?” Helen said, the intercom filtering her voice through to the vampire.

“He doesn’t want to kill you,” she said. “Though I do.”

“That’s not helpful,” Helen said softly. “Put her in one of the holding cells upstairs. Let the sun take care of her.”

“Wait!” she said. “Wait. He said something about making you a queen. He said you already had a throne on hell, but you wouldn’t rule. He wants you to rule beside him.”

She glanced at Will who pulled a notebook from his jacket and scribbled everything down.

“He said you were benevolent,” she said. “That you protected strange creatures, that you wouldn’t kill me if I was different.” 

The vampire slid off of her face and she was just a young girl again.

Helen stepped up to the glass, looked her right in her eyes.

“He was wrong,” she said.

oooo

“I need to go to London,” Will said. “I’d like for you to come.” 

He was drinking coffee, she had tea and they were sitting in his office, for a change. Enough of her residents had started seeing him for regular therapy sessions that she was officially adding him on as an employee. He’d dodged her for weeks, reminding her that he didn’t work for her, that they should just stay partners and not complicate things, but it was a modest salary, not what she’d offer someone who didn’t currently have another time consuming job. 

“A contractor,” she’d promised. “You can bill me hourly.” 

He’d hedged.

“No health care,” she’d offered.

He’d given in, of course. He seemed to give her everything she asked for, gave her things she didn’t. 

She realized that she liked Will, that she preferred his company to none. That Will was good for her, good for her slaying. He’d already improved her slaying and it wasn’t as though she lacked experience. 

Now he looked up at her and she realized he looked tired. She set her tea on the edge of his desk, sat down in one of the chairs.

“Whatever for?” she asked.

“Well, I’d like to get some time in the Council library,” he said. “They have more resources there and… people that I should like to talk to about the weather here and, and some other things.” 

“I don’t expect you to solve things single-handedly,” she said, gently. 

“I know but I think, I think it would help,” he said.

“And you want me to come because…?” she prodded.

“I think it would be good of you to visit them,” he said. “I think they would be more forthcoming in the future if you did.”

“I don’t-”

“And,” he interrupted. “You could speak to Mr. Watson about perhaps loaning you another person?”

“I’ve told Ashley I’ll interview her acquaintance,” Helen said. Ashley had implied that they were not quite friends, but ran in the same circles. Which meant either they, too, were an employee of a secret, private organization of some sort or, more likely, they were a gun for hire. Either way, it was worth meeting them at least. 

“You need someone who can help you manage this place,” he said.

“I have you!” 

“I can’t… I can’t do both, Helen,” he said. “I’m flattered that you think I could, but it isn’t why I’m here. I’m here for you, not your Sanctuary.” 

She slumped a little in her chair. 

“I think you’d be good at it, for the record,” she said. 

“Noted,” he said with a soft smile. “Now, getting out of here for a few days could be good for you. Will you consider it?”

She looked him over, his blue eyes, his messy hair, his soft shirt. 

“I will,” she said. 

They patrolled that evening - Will had only just recently carved her a new batch of stakes out of redwood. Redwood was expensive but was a good wood for a slayer because it was particularly hard and magically, it connected heaven and earth, much like the Slayer herself, the strongest of God’s warriors against darkness. 

He didn’t tell her any of this, of course. He would if she asked, but she didn’t. Just accepted the gift, trusted that it was going to help her. 

Slaying in the snow was probably Will’s least favorite activity, and he mostly hung back and watched, tossing her weapons or shoving a flying body as needed. Helen refused to wear her heavy coat, claiming it was too restrictive which was probably true. But her cheeks and nose were red by the time they headed back toward home. She was limping a little from a two by four to the back of the knee. 

He didn’t bother to ask about her injuries. She’d downplay them no matter what and the Sasquatch would tend to them whether she liked it or not. 

“I’ve been looking at plane tickets,” he said, his hands deep in his pockets. A fresh snow was starting and he could already see the snowflakes catching in her dark hair. “It’s expensive, due to the holiday, but I think perhaps business class is the most economical without forgoing too many comforts?”

“First class,” she says. “Anything else is unendurable on a transatlantic flight.”

He winced. “As you wish.”

“And if we’re going to spend that much, we may as well just charter a plane, don’t you think?”

“How much money do you have, exactly?” he asked, too surprised to care about crassness.

“Had you taken a more permanent job at my Sanctuary, Dr. Zimmerman, that is a question you would have the answer to, but alas…” She smirked at him. “I’ll arrange the travel. You let your Council know we’re coming.”

“Or we could just show up,” he says. “See what they do?”

She cocks her head, her eyes narrowed. “Let’s,” she agrees.

oooo

James wasn’t at all what Will expected, despite reading much of his writings and seeing a fair number of photographs of the man. In real life, he was much more...mechanical. Not his brain or his speech, but his movements were cumbersome and jerky and Will tried not to stare. 

And it was difficult, too, not to be jealous when Helen wrapped her arms around him, peppered his checks with light kisses. 

“It’s been far too long,” Helen said.

“You don’t visit,” James chastised. “Not all of us can fly ourselves over an ocean.” He turned to Will, extending his hand. “You seem to have survived the trip well enough.”

Will shook his hand, gave Helen an indulgent smile. “When she said we’d charter a flight, I was unaware that wouldn’t include a pilot.”

“Why pay someone to do what I can manage on my own?” she said, haughtily.

“Just because you survived your trip doesn’t make you a good pilot, Helen,” James chuckled. “Anyway, come in, leave your things. Someone will have them brought to your rooms. Are you tired? Hungry?”

“Yes?” Will said. 

“A drink to start, I think,” Helen said. “Then we can decide where to go from there.” 

But the alcohol did little more than put Will to sleep and he kept dozing off, only to jerk awake, embarrassed. Finally, after the third time, Helen took pity on him and said, “Are we in the guest quarters? I’d like to freshen up, I think. Will, walk with me?”

Of course, Helen knew the layout of this Sanctuary as well as, if not better than, her own. She’d grown up there, after all. So she navigated them up staircases and down hallways easily until they came to a corridor shut up tight except for two open doors, glowing warmly from within.

“Us, then,” Helen said. 

“Neighbors,” Will said. “I’ll try to keep it down.”

“See that you do,” she said with a faux seriousness. “Now this building is a spot older than what we’re used to, so the loo is down at the end of the hall, should you need it.”

“Thanks,” he said. 

“I can send up some food?” she offered.

“No, no… thank you, I’m fine. We should just get some rest,” he said.

“I’ll get some sleep, I promise,” she said.

A promise she made often and broke more times than not. But he was past the point of staying up with her. The time change plus the spent adrenaline on the harrowing flight had rendered him useless and much like his first night in the Old Town Sanctuary, he fell asleep with all his clothes on. He woke up some hours later and managed to strip and crawl under the covers. He might have slept forever except for the sound of high heels on the wooden floor outside of his door and then a soft knock.

Helen turned the handle of the door and stuck her head in. 

“Breakfast in half an hour, Will,” she said softly. “Can you manage?”

“Yes, of course,” he said. 

She nodded, closed the door. 

He wasn’t ill, just disoriented. He could use a shower and some tea. He rubbed his face, replaced his glasses on his nose. Pulled on his trousers and fished his travel bag full of toiletries out of his suitcase. Glanced at his wristwatch and forced his brain to comprehend the new set of numbers, despite his body’s resistance. 

It helped to put food in him. He and Helen breakfasted alone, though she made no excuses for James and he didn’t ask. They were just finishing up when someone came in, heavy soled boots on the wooden floor. It was a younger man, closer to Will’s age but taller and broader. 

“I heard the rumor that you’d shown your face!” he boomed. Helen grinned, stood and embraced him and Will found himself inexplicably jealous and didn’t trust him, whomever he was.

“Declan!” she said. “You _are_ here!”

“Out on a bag and tag, I’m afraid,” Declan said. “Just got in. You’re looking as lovely as ever.”

“Stop that,” she said, though she smiled at him. Will hated his leather jacket, hated his hair and how it stood up, stiff with gel. Declan turned to him and stuck out his hand with a rakish smile.

“Declan MacRae,” he said.

“Will Zimmerman,” Will responded, shaking the hand as hard as he could. Declan didn’t even flinch.

“Ah right-o, you’re the counselman,” Declan said.

“We prefer Watcher,” Will said, defensive, suddenly, for an organization he wasn’t even sure he supported all that much, one that was currently punishing him, one that had spent his entire lifetime bullying him into service-by-birthright. Still, it was his shadowy organization and he was trying to sell Helen on it, after all.

Declan just smiled, turned back to Helen. 

Will turned back to his breakfast.

oooo

Tucked into his pocket was a list of titles emailed to him by the Old City University Librarian, Ingrid. Someone he still hadn’t met in person, but they’d emailed enough times he thought her at least an acquaintance, if not a friend. She never questioned his requests, never ignored him either. Took his questions at face value and gave them a thoughtful response. He’d told her not to worry about locating copies of things and he could tell by her careful replies that she was curious about that - his resources, perhaps, but she never came right out and asked. 

He’d have to meet her, when they returned. At least send her a thank you note. 

He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket once more to feel the paper once more. It was reassuring, his list. He felt like he needed to be reassured. 

Helen looked like she was ready to kill something and didn’t much care what it was. Dr. Magnus of the Sanctuary was an infinitely patient and talented businesswoman, capable of navigating the stickiest of situations but sometimes the Slayer in her got impatient and twitchy. 

She clearly had no interest in going to the Council building. She was humoring him. Part of him wanted to release her of this duty but he knew it was important for the Watchers to see her and it was important to their partnership, too. To show the others that they were a united front and to really be united in their efforts. 

Plus, he’d gotten bitten by a vampire and nearly killed by her lunatic ex on her behalf. She could have tea with the Watchers. It was the very least she could do. 

“It’s fine,” she said, reaching out to touch his elbow. “I’m fine.”

“Thinking that loudly, was I?” he asked. 

“It’s been many years since I’ve been here and the last time did not go well, I’m afraid,” Helen said. 

“Yes, you quit in a huff, I believe,” Will said, smirking. “Let it be some comfort to you that certainly all those people are now dead.” 

“Generally, the death of humans isn’t comforting to me, but perhaps an exception can be made in this case,” she said. 

Helen was driving a car borrowed from James and she slowed as she approached the gate to the Council compound. 

“I do appreciate this,” Will said.

“Yes, you ought to,” she replied, cranking down the window and pulling up to the intercom. She reached out one well manicured finger and pressed the call button. After a few moments, a line began to ring and then a gruff voice answered.

“Deliveries are around back,” the voice said, garbled a little by static.

Helen leaned out the window a bit and said, “Tell them the Slayer is here.” 

There was a long moment and then the line disconnected. Helen looked over at Will who just shrugged. Then, the gate started to open.

“Ah, yes, very good,” she said. “Where shall I park?”

“You could park on the lawn, I think, if you wanted,” he said. “Drive up the front steps and pull into the foyer.”

“I don’t think the shocks could handle it,” she said. “Alas.”

They did park in a car park adjacent to the main building, in a slot that said _Reserved_.

“Who else could possibly be more important than me?” she asked in a lighthearted tone. Will didn’t think she was nervous, but uncomfortable, perhaps. She was obviously doing this for no other reason than his benefit which only showed how far they’d come since he’d arrived at her door. He reached out and touched her arm lightly.

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” she warned. “A lot could still go wrong.”

Before they even got out of the car, Will saw Travers’ assistant standing at the main entrance, hugging a clipboard to her chest and peering at them with curiosity. Her name was Charlotte and she’d been in Will’s class. They’d trained together. Will could never figure out what it was, exactly, that she’d done to gain the head of the organizations favor but then, he’d never been quite sure what he’d done to earn scorn, so it didn’t much matter now. 

Helen closed her door so hard, the entire car rattled. 

Charlotte raised one pale hand and said, “Mr. Zimmerman!”

Helen snorted. Stepped forward and said. “I am Dr. Helen Magnus. This is Dr. Zimmerman. You will take us to Mr. Travers, now.” 

“Uh, yes,” Charlotte said. “Of course. It’s a pleasure to finally-”

“We are not here to talk to _you_ ,” Helen said softly, cutting her off. “And I’m sure my Watcher knows the way to your boss’s office without you, so if you want to continue the ruse of you being needed, you will take us to Mr. Travers or you will step aside.” 

The color drained from Charlotte’s face and her eyes darted to Will who just shrugged one shoulder. 

“This way,” she said. As they followed her down hallways and up stairs, Will looked over at Helen who winked at him. He’d not seen much of this side of her. Her business strategy was not often to flash her feathers - she was doing it for him. She’d called him her Watcher right out loud and though they hadn’t seen anyone else, he knew that people were watching them. Through office blinds, cracked doors, on the security feed. 

A Slayer in the council building was an anomaly, after all. There were even veteran Watchers that had never seen one in person, had never met anything more than potentials. 

Quentin Travers waited for them in the outer office where Charlotte kept her desk. 

“Do they not have phones in America?” he asked in lieu of a proper greeting. 

“Do you expect every employee to phone before they come to the office?” Helen said, nodding her head at Will. “He is still your employee, is he not?”

“I meant you, Dr. Magnus,” he said. 

“I don’t work for you,” she said. “Haven’t since before you were born, Quentin.” 

He smiled. “Come in. Charlotte will get us some tea.” 

Helen turned to Will. “Why don’t you get a start on your research. I’ll come find you in a while.”

It stung a little, the dismissal, but the best thing Will could do for the entire situation is go along with it. The whole premise of his paper on the Slayer was helping her, doing what she asked of them and no longer issuing orders. 

“Of course,” he said. When the office door closed behind them, he realized Charlotte was still standing there, gaping at him. “What?”

“The real Slayer is here,” Charlotte said. “She’s so…”

“What?” he said when she didn’t manage to come up with anything.

“Beautiful, I guess,” Charlotte said finally. 

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah. Traditionally, Slayers are. I mean, beauty is somewhat objective but… youth and symmetry is a somewhat universal… constant.” 

“How is America?” Charlotte asked. 

“Snowy,” he said. “Full of vampires.” 

“Do you encounter them often. Do you patrol with her?” Charlotte asked. 

Will reached up and pulled his collar aside to show her the scar he carried from the vampire bite. She paled. 

“Mr. Travers is under the impression that you’re out there as some sort of errand boy for her demon asylum,” Charlotte said, her voice lowering. 

“I send regular field reports,” Will said. “Does he think I’m fabricating them?”

She shrugged. 

He shook his head. It was all worse than high school. “I’m going to do some research. I assume my credentials will still give me access to the rare books?”

She thought for a moment and then frowned slightly. “I’ll come with you.” 

oooo

Helen found him in the library, much like she often found him at home, surrounded by stacks of aged tomes. He had his notebook open and was scribbling notes in as he read. 

“Dr. Zimmerman,” she said softly. He looked up. 

“I think that volcano in Iceland was definitely at one time a hellmouth,” he said. “The one from the poem.” 

“Hekla,” she said. 

“Right,” he said. “I’ve been researching hellmouths. It’s rare that there’s more than one at a time and they don’t often shift locations. Generally it takes a massive amount of energy to both open one and close one. I found an entry in an old diary of a watcher and a Slayer traveling to Iceland and actually using the force of a volcanic blast to close the hellmouth. It’s not well documented but it certainly coincides with reports of demonic activity there dying down.” 

He flipped through his notebook and pointed at a passage. She glanced at it. 

“That’s very interesting,” she said. “I think enough that you deserve a break.” 

He looked at her, looked at the window to see that it was nearly dark. Looked at his watch. 

“Good lord,” he said. “I should’ve come to find you long ago.” 

“It’s fine. I had an interesting discussion with your Mr. Travers. I received a tour of modern updates since last I was here.”

“Yes, we have the internet now,” he said dryly.

“I agreed to several tests of strength and agility,” she said. “I met some of your colleagues.”

“They gave you tests?” he said, a deep wrinkle appearing in his forehead. 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. I think they wanted to reassure themselves that I wasn’t an imposter of some sort,” she said with a smile.

“That’s moronic,” he muttered. 

“Nonetheless,” she said. “It’s getting late and I’d like to not stand James up for dinner before we patrol.”

He looked at the book covered table. “I need more time,” he said.

“I thought you might,” she said. “Which is why I agreed to return tomorrow. You can resume your studies, I agreed to meet some of the young potentials.” 

“Okay,” he said. It wasn’t until they were in the car and outside of the gates that he started talking about his research again.

“John,” Will said.

“Ah,” she said. “Yes. What of him?”

“He’s got the strength of both the abnormal and the demon inside of him,” Will said. “As well as longevity.” 

“Yes,” she said.

“And he has magic,” Will said.

Helen frowned. “We don’t know that, do we?”

“He can apparate,” Will said. “Or whatever it is that allows him to transport from location to location. However he does that is rooted in the supernatural, surely.” 

“Or perhaps just an aspect of science we don’t yet understand,” Helen pointed out. 

“I just mean, he’s strong and is tapped into something much stronger. He has power that is a match even to you.” Will pulled his notebook out of his suit pocket and thumbed at the pages thoughtfully. 

“You think he’s the cause of our meteorological distress?” she asked. 

“I think that’s a side effect of something much larger,” he said. “I think he’s trying to open a hellmouth in Old City.” 

“All right,” Helen said, her fingers tight on the wheel. “Part of the reason we settled in Old City for the North American Sanctuary was because of the unusually high demonic activity, but there haven’t been reports of a real, active hellmouth in years.”

“The last active one was in southern California, actually, an an earthquake destroyed the town on top of it in the late 70s and it went dormant,” he said. “I looked it up.” 

“We should go back then. Ashley and Henry are there alone.”

“We know what he’s doing, possibly, but not how. One more day isn’t going to make a difference,” he said. She frowned, thinking of her daughter, Henry, practically her son. Getting close to people was always a gamble and was always temporary. She’d outlive them both, Will too. Letting him in was just one more thing to ache over later down the line. 

“Don’t you want to know what we spoke about? Travers and I?” Helen said.

“If you’d like to tell me,” Will replied. 

“He spoke about you as if you were a thorn in my side. He offered to recall you as a favor to me and send someone more qualified for the position,” Helen said.

“And what did you say to that?” Will asked, growing still in his seat. They were close to the Sanctuary now and she would not have them discussing Slayer business with anyone on her Sanctuary payroll. 

“I set him straight,” Helen said. “I wonder, Will, if I were to become more involved in the Council again, do you think I might have some say over the leadership there?”

“I think if anyone were to figure out how to do it, it’d be you,” Will said, flashing her a smile. 

“Once we sort out John,” Helen said. “Something else to consider.”

oooo

Will was in bed, the lights out, but he couldn’t sleep. He could hear Helen’s voice through the wall, a low murmur as she spoke on the telephone. He felt guilty for insisting that she come with him; it seemed an extremely foolish thing to remove her from the danger she was sworn to rage against. It had been motivated by selfishness as much as anything else. Wanting to show her off to Travers, to wallow in being correct. 

He sighed, rolled over and turned on the lamp. His notebook was on the nightstand and he opened it up, started to read through his notes. He was fairly confident in his theory but if John was planning on opening a hellmouth in Old City, they didn’t know how he planned to do it or even how to stop him. Just figuring it all out seemed, at the moment, insurmountable. 

As he was reading over his notes, his mobile buzzed on the nightstand with an email. He picked it up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and opened his email. 

It was from Ingrid, the university librarian. There wasn’t much by way of text, just a line about how he may find the attached interesting. He clicked the attachment and waited a few moments for it to load. It was difficult to see on the small screen of the phone, but after studying it for a while, he realized it was a map of old city from before even Helen was born. He’d need a much larger screen to really get a clear picture, but he thumbed along until he found where the Sanctuary was.

He squinted, sat up. He didn’t speak that language, he didn’t even know what it was. 

He didn’t even think about it too much, just pushed out of bed and opened his door, knocked on the next door over while still peering at his phone screen.

Helen opened the door, tying her robe around her waist. Dark navy silk. She was dressed down, surely, but still had her makeup on. 

“Do you know this language?” he asked, handing her the phone. She gave him an odd expression but took the phone. It was not until she was looking at the small screen intently that he realized he didn’t have a shirt on. It would be strange to go put one on now, though.

“May I send the attachment to my mobile?” she asked, stepping aside so he could come into the room. 

“Sure,” he said. Helen’s room was much like his, though it felt slightly grander. He wasn’t sure if it was the room and its decor or some touch Helen had added herself. The bedding seemed plusher, was a darker color than what was on his bed. The lighting seemed softer, more flattering. Maybe Helen being there simply classed any space up. 

She poked at his phone and then handed it back. From her own nightstand, a chirp. 

She walked over and picked it up, looked around at the room and frowned. “The corridor, maybe.” 

Walked past him, out of the room into the dark hallway, the only light from their two open doors. She frowned at the wooden, paneled walls of the hallway and wandered on. He took the opportunity to dart into his room and grab a t-shirt. She was nearly to the stairs when he caught up with her. Their bare feet were soft on the old wood of the stairs. 

At the bottom, she snapped her fingers and said, “I know.” 

She led them to the kitchen where there was a large island with a white, marble slab. She held her phone up and pressed a button and the image of the map projected down onto the island.

“Whoa!” Will said.

“A little something Henry rigged up for me,” she said, looking. “This language… I would say it’s in the Salishan family.”

“Native American?” he asked and she nodded. 

“I can recognize a few phrases but…”

“Look, at the site of the Sanctuary.” He tapped the counter. “Do you recognize those words?”

The phrase was written just below a symbol. It looked like a spiky trapezoid. 

“I’m not… sure. Grin? No, that’s not quite… slice or gash, I think is that one. And this is a word for heat or for flame.”

“Gash fire?”

She stilled. “Or fire gash,” she said softly. “A hellmouth.” She pointed to the symbol. “That looks more like a volcano than I’m comfortable with. Or at least a hole in the earth.”

“John Druitt isn’t trying to open a new hellmouth,” Will said.

“He’s trying to reopen one that was already there,” Helen finished. She pressed a button on her phone and the image disappeared. “I wonder if my father knew. I wonder if that’s why he chose that sight for the Sanctuary.”

“I thought you founded that Sanctuary,” Will said. 

“I did,” she murmured. “But the land for expansion predated me. My father spent some time traveling the globe, buying up property before my mother died. By the time I made my way to the Americas, we’d already owned the land. It seemed easiest just to build on it.” She flashed him a smile. “What do you say we sleep on it?”

“Sleep now? This is the biggest breakthrough we’ve had. I think I’m going to see what the library here has to offer.”

“Don’t over tire yourself,” she said, but it wasn’t a no. “Also, James isn’t quite as lackadaisical as I am, so I’d put on shoes before you begin your research.” 

“Oh my god,” he said, following her out of the kitchen and back toward their rooms. “Are you the free-spirited one?”

“Only by comparison,” she assured him. At their rooms, she hesitated. “There’s several hours until sunrise. I’m going to do a sweep of the neighborhood.” 

“Oh,” he said. “I’ll come with you.” 

“What about the library?” she asked. 

“My first duty is always to protect you, Helen. You’re my Slayer. The library will be there when we return.” 

She reached out, touched his arm. “I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes,” she said. Gave his forearm a small squeeze. Her hand was warm, nearly hot. Slayers ran warm. 

It was cold out; they both wore leather. Jackets and boots. He had a pair of leather gloves, as well, though she kept her hands bare. 

“There was a time that vampires would’ve never set up shop in the same town as the Watchers and a Sanctuary,” Helen commented as they made their way toward the river. “But, now, I smell them all over.”

“We occasionally capture one for training purposes,” Will commented. “They were never too difficult to locate.”

“How many of you did it take to bag one?” she asked with a smirk. 

“It’s too embarrassing to admit,” he said. “And anyway, I wasn’t a part of that. I was an academic. I only became a field watcher when they gave me you.” 

“When the gods gave us the green light, you mean?” she said airily.

“I know you still think it’s hokum, but-”

He stopped at the sound of smashing glass. They both stilled, listened hard. Helen took off at a run so fast that Will barely saw the direction she went in, had to push himself hard just to keep up and then arrived just in time to see her pull a stake out of a cloud of dust. 

“Lazy vampires,” she said, shaking the dust out of her hair. “They’re used to being the top of the food chain here. Basically just stood there and let me stake him.” 

“Do you sense anymore nearby?” he asked. She squinted through the foggy night. 

“I don’t… it’s hard to say,” she said. “I can tell when I’m right on top of them but once I start to feel out farther it all sort of… mucks up. Abnormal or ill-intent or demon, I can’t differentiate.” 

Will pried off his glove and extended his hand. It was admirable how quickly she took it, how much she’d grown to trust him after a short amount of time, but it didn’t stop her from asking, “What are we doing?”

“You’re going to use me to help heighten your senses,” he said. 

She leveled a look at him and said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure it’ll be good for either one of us if I start borrowing your strength.” 

“Not my strength, though thanks for that, by the way. My magic.” 

She tried to drop his hand but he clung on. 

“Just try it, Helen.” He gave her a hard look over the tops of his glasses. “As I am quite willing to share, you should not have any difficulty. Just close your eyes.”

She compressed her lips together but relented, closed her eyes. He thought of his magic as sand, tiny grains of different things that came together to form a bigger, grander scale and all he needed to do was pour it into her open, waiting hands, which he did. Her skepticism was purely academic, he suspected, because when it came right down to the mechanics of magic he found them to be deliciously compatible. He felt her and heard her gasp at the feeling. Take what he’d given and expertly sort through it, open her eyes and turn to look down a dark and desolate street.

“There,” she said and dropped his hand, broke into a trot that turned quickly into a run.

He woozily stared after her, proud and enamoured and very tired, down to the bone. The marrow. Whatever was deeper still.

Helen came back after twenty minutes covered with vampire dust and looking satisfied. Looped her arm through his and helped him back to the Sanctuary.

oooo

Old City was even more iced over and they had some difficulty landing the plane, circling while the crew down below salted the runway enough that the plane wouldn’t spin out of control. This took some time, longer still because it was Christmas Eve and the regional airport she chartered her planes from was running at half staff. 

By the time they made it off the plane and into the black Range Rover they’d left behind, it was dark and they were both hungry and tired. Conversation had failed them some time ago and they were both more than content to be silent. The roads were little better than the runway had been and it was slow going.

When they finally made the last turn and the Sanctuary came into view, Will couldn’t stifle the happy sigh at the sight of what he now certainly thought of as home. Helen glanced over at him, said, “Me too, Dr. Zimmerman.”

Henry had been upgrading security while they were gone because when the approached the gate they had to enter their code and then a green beam swept the car and a mechanical voice from the security pad said, “Ocular scan accepted.”

“Did he already have my eye scan on file?” Will wondered. “I don’t remember ever giving him that.”

Helen only offered him that soft, enigmatic smile that made him feel about ten-years-old and pulled the car through the gate. 

oooo

Ingrid sent Will a follow up email the next morning asking if the information she’d sent had proved helpful and if he wanted to meet for coffee one morning this week to look over it together. The university was closed until after the new year and it would be quite easy for her to make the time, to let them into the library to have a poke around.

He thought it a tad strange she was emailing him Christmas morning but emailed her back just the same. He was still in bed, feeling strange due to jetlag and travel. He tapped out his reply on his phone, offering up Wednesday morning and set the email away. He did not wish her a happy holidays or a merry christmas. He was unsure what she celebrated and he didn’t celebrate anything himself. 

His plan for today was to lie low. He hadn’t gotten anyone any gifts and he expected nothing in return. He found religions interesting but felt he knew too much about the reality of gods and demons to subscribe to any particular theology. Worshiping beings, he’d found, often led to trouble. 

He’d already slept in quite a bit. He dragged himself out of bed, showered and shaved. Put on jeans and a warm sweater because it was still snowing outside. The city was becoming a little more adept at snow management, purely out of necessity, so he could see where the plow had been by. 

He’d purchased a coffee maker for his room, tired of tea and the scorn he received from tea drinkers. It was a small one that made one cup at a time. He filled a mug and carried his coffee black to the library. He’d entrench himself there for most of the day. Maybe order a pizza later, if he found a place that was open on the holiday. His father hadn’t been spectacular at holidays or parenting in general, but they’d often gotten pizza on Christmas and that was a tradition he didn’t mind keeping. More due to his love of pizza than his father, but still.

He’d just settled into one of the arm chairs in the library when Ashley came in, looking exasperated.

“There you are!” she said. “Come on, you’re making everyone wait.” 

“I’m what? For what?” he said.

“For breakfast,” she said. 

“Oh, I wasn’t going to… intrude on your family time,” he said. “You can go on without me.” 

She stared at him, a little wrinkle appearing on her forehead. Her mother got that same line, too. He’d keep that observation to himself. 

“Listen,” she said. “It’s just breakfast. And if you don’t come with me, then mom is gonna send the big guy to come get you.” 

He closed his book. “Point made.” 

In the elevator he said, “I don’t really do Christmas.” 

She glanced at him. “Do you do breakfast?”

“Well, yeah, but I just want to make it clear that I didn’t… I mean, it’s not that I don’t like any of you, but gifts and making merry isn’t really…”

“Oh, my god,” she said. “Just calm down, Dr. Watcher. Eat some eggs. Drink a nog. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“Fine,” he said. She looked at him and seemed to take pity.

“She’s too hard to buy for anyway, so we don’t bother with all that. We just eat a lot.” She tilted her head. “And drink.”

Will followed Ashley not to the dining room, but to one of the parlors he didn’t often visit. There was a huge fireplace that was crackling merrily and emitting enough warmth that he finally didn’t feel cold. There was a buffet set up along one wall and it did look cozy. Some of the more human looking residents were sitting on the furniture with plates on their knees. 

Helen was holding court in the middle, smiling and chatting. She glanced up at him when he came in and he nodded at her. She cocked her head toward the food. By the time he’d loaded his plate up, the seat next to her was free so he took it. 

“How are you faring today?” she asked. 

“Awake for now,” he said. “I make no promises for the afternoon.” 

“I always find the coming home easier than the initial arrival,” she said. “But then I’ve never had much issue with jet lag.”

He didn’t find that remotely surprising. She hardly slept, was built to stay strong with very little help. It was his inclination, it was his _desire_ to try to keep up with her, to match her so she could know he was someone she could rely on no matter what, but that was, he knew, a somewhat unrealistic goal. So he would simply be as prepared as he could be. 

“Sorry about my tardiness,” he said. “I wasn’t sure of your holiday customs.” 

“One of the things that go strange when time is on your side,” she admits. “I’ve lived through so many birthdays and holidays that they start to lose their luster. But it’s always good to take a moment to share a meal with those closest to you.” She gave him that very soft, very enigmatic smile. “It’s fine if you pick and choose the customs you want to keep. If you prefer to visit family for holidays, that can be accommodated. Your father lives on this continent, I thought?”

He felt his eyebrows climb. “I think so. Maybe. Last I checked, anyway.” 

She lifted one shoulder. “If you ever want to know for sure, my resources are at your disposal.” 

“Noted,” he said. But he didn’t want to, not really, and he didn’t want to talk about it either. “The university librarian invited me over to campus on Wednesday,” he said, hoping for a subject change interesting enough that all talk of his family was dropped. 

“Oh?” she said.

“I think we’ve piqued her interest; I’m hoping she has something to show me,” he said. “Maybe she knows more than she’s letting on.” 

“You give enough pieces to a librarian, they’re going to start wanting to solve the puzzle.” Helen pursed her lips and then said, “May I come with you?”

“Really?” he asked. “Yeah, totally, of course. I didn’t think you’d care.” 

“Oh, I like to keep an eye on their collection, but it’s been some years since I’ve actually visited and the things people acquire for special collections don’t always get thoroughly cataloged.” 

“So it’s not you worrying about me going out alone?” he teased. 

“There can be two reasons,” she said but he could tell she was teasing him back. “If it was your safety I was worried about, I could send Ashely or the new girl with you but I honestly would like to know what’s there.” 

“New girl?” Will asked. 

“Not officially, not yet,” Helen said. “I’m supposed to interview her this evening.” 

“On Christmas?” he asked. 

She shrugged, fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I suppose you’re not the only one who doesn’t care for Christmas. And anyhow, if she has nowhere else to go at this point, as I suspect from talking to my less than forthcoming daughter, offering her lodgings on a cold night is a kindness I could provide.” 

“Want me to sit in on the interview with you?” he offered. She chewed at the inside of her lip to break up her smile.

“All right,” she said. “You can do mine since you’re letting me do yours.” 

She raised her cup of tea and he clinked his mug of coffee against it gently. 

They both took a drink.

oooo

The new girl was named Kate and she was, to put it kindly, rough around the edges. Young, for the kind of résumé she was sporting, as well, but Will sat in on the meeting with the intention of assessing her psychologically, not to judge her life choices. He could tell that she was scared and a little desperate but she certainly seemed competent and knew enough about guns to impress Ashley and enough about abnormals to impress Dr. Magnus. 

“Do you have any questions for me or Dr. Zimmerman?” Helen asked her.

“You’re the Watcher, right?” Kate asked. 

It was Will’s turn to be impressed.

“I serve a variety of purposes here at the Sanctuary,” Will said diplomatically.

“Oh, was I not supposed to talking about the Slayer stuff? Sorry,” she said. 

“It’s a somewhat poorly kept secret if you’ve lived in this city for awhile,” Helen admitted. 

“I got bit once,” Kate said, moving aside her dark hair to show a bite mark shaped scar, much lighter than her brown skin. 

“And lived to tell the tale,” Helen said. “Impressive.” 

“Vampires are strong, but they’re not very smart,” Kate said. “Anyway, I know I’ve worked for some mean dudes but when you grow up like I did, the best chance at survival you can have is working for the strongest person. I think, right now, that’s you, Doc.”

“You think?” Will asked. 

“Well there’s that scary bald dude stirring shit… sorry, stirring stuff up but I get a bad vibe from him, I don’t have any interest in doing the kind of dirty work someone like him would need. There’s dirty and then there’s straight up evil. Even I have morals. Kind of.” Kate looked between them.

“You’ve met John Druitt,” Helen said softly. 

Kate nodded. 

Helen glanced over at Will who gave a nearly imperceptible nod. Though he was not foolish enough to think that both women didn’t see it. 

“All right,” Helen said. “I agree. Let’s start you on a trial basis. It’s how any employee or contractor of any Sanctuary world wide starts. I’ve have my butler arrange for you some quarters and Henry put you into the system. Get you trained on our software.” 

“Kate,” Will said. “People know about the Slayer in Old City because she lives here. But most people don’t know a thing about Watchers. Why do you?” 

“Oh,” she said. “When I was real little some old white dude came to my house to try to sell my parents on the fact that I had potential. Said they were from the Watchers Council. I mean, I looked you guys up later on. No big.” 

The sasquatch appeared at the door. 

“He’ll show you the way. Thank you, Kate,” Helen said. 

“Thanks,” Kate said, “Not gonna let you down.” 

They both waited for Kate and the Big Guy to put some distance between them and the office before Helen said what they were both thinking.

“She was a Potential.” 

“Lots of girls are,” Will said. “We couldn’t possibly find them all and even the ones we do, it’s common that their parents choose not to give them up. More than common for ones who live in urban areas.” 

“She grew up here,” Helen said. “There’s every chance that I could have been killed in this city, every chance she would have been called. Or still could.” 

“Probably not now,” Will said. “What is she, twenty-four? Basically every potential in their teens would have had to be wiped out for a potential in their twenties to be called.”

Helen still fretted. 

“It’s moot,” Will said. “You’re here now and we’re here to protect you and Kate and whoever else may need help in the future.” 

Her guilt at being the Slayer was something Will wished she would talk to him more about but he knew better to push her now, when she already felt anxious about it. He didn’t tell her that it was genetically likely Ashley was a potential, that it was also likely there was a higher ratio of potentials born in their geographic region because that’s where the current Slayer was likely to die. 

“You look shattered,” Helen said now, changing the subject and letting them both off the hook. “Why don’t you go get some rest?”

He was tired, had pushed through his afternoon fatigue in order to sit in on the interview. He’d skip dinner after a long day of snacking and just fall into bed.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he said. 

She nodded. “I promise.”

oooo

They took the Range Rover to the university because it was best at traversing the snow and ice. Helen drove. The roads were busy with boxing day traffic but everything thinned out once they got to campus. They found parking close to the library, on the street, something that would have never happened when class was in session. By the time they made it inside, Helen had snowflakes stuck to her eyelashes, the shoulders of her black coat, and in her hair. Will wanted to reach out and brush them off, lifted his hand to do so, but it was warm inside the doors and they melted away into water before he had the chance. 

“Well,” Helen said, looking around at the deserted foyer. The doors to the main library were locked, the stacks beyond them dark. There was an elevator and a staircase. Will knew the offices were up several floors. “She knows we’re coming, right?”

“Yeah,” Will said. “I told her 9:30. She said she’d meet us.” He glanced at his watch. It was 9:33. 

Helen managed to wait another five minutes before rising from the bench they sat on. Said, “Let’s have a poke around.” 

Will looked over his shoulders at the entrance, at the stairs. 

“Would you rather ring her?” Helen asked at his hesitation.

“I don’t… we’ve only corresponded by email,” he admitted. 

“They’ll have locked up anything they don’t want us to see,” she said, heading for the staircase. “Maybe she’s just lost track of the time.”

He followed her up, her heels making enough sound that there was a slight echo with every step. She wasn’t trying to be stealthy, he’d heard her be practically silent in heels. It seemed to be somewhat dark upstairs, too. Helen hesitated at the top where the long corridor opened up into office space. 

She frowned, that little line between her eyebrows making an appearance. 

He, very slowly and quietly, slipped his hand into hers. It said something about the level of trust they’d managed since he’d arrived at her doorstep that she didn’t pull away or look at him questioningly. She just wrapped her fingers around his, used his power to help boost her own. 

She didn’t let go of his hand when finally she turned to him and said, “Something isn’t right.”

oooo

It was tempting to send Will back down to the car, but she knew he wouldn’t go. She still had trouble telling whether she felt something demonic or something abnormal, but she was leaning toward the first. Something was tingling uncomfortably low in her gut. 

“Stay behind me,” she told Will. He looked as if he didn’t care for that, either, but did as she asked. A good Watcher, still something that surprised her. What luck she had. 

He pulled a stake out of his coat pocket. 

She moved toward the unpleasant sensation, walking quietly, now. The ornate marble flooring gave way into dull grey carpeting as they made their way into the staff area, past the vacant reception desk. A door marked ‘Staff Only Beyond This Point’ was locked, but she gave the knob a hard turn and it gave way with an grueling metal on metal noise. 

When they found the librarian, Helen could tell straight away. She’d seen it before. The mussed hair, the rumpled clothes that looked quite off, like someone had redressed her. Askew buttons, the zipper of her tweed skirt at her hip instead of the small of her back. She smiled at them, but her eyes looked empty.

“You must be Dr. Zimmerman,” she said. 

“Ingrid?” he said. He moved to stand at Helen’s side instead of behind her shoulder and she had to squash down on the instinct to shove him back. “I thought you were going to meet us downstairs.” 

“Will,” Helen said softly.

“I have something amazing to show you both,” Ingrid said. “Come closer. Come with me.”

“It’s so dark in here,” Will said, stepping toward her, moving in front of Helen. She reached out, grabbed his elbow and held him back.

Such a shame. Will seemed to really like the poor librarian and she was so young, quite pretty. Her blonde hair was so light that Helen figured she was probably just as pale in life as she appeared now. 

“It’s too late,” Helen said when Will looked back at her. “I’m sorry.”

Ingrid’s face changed while Will was looking away. Helen took the stake from him; it hummed in her hand. 

“Look at me,” Helen murmured. “Don’t look back.” 

But the silly Watcher didn’t listen and Helen could not save him from witnessing the change in his almost friend, the demon on her face, the fight, or the cloud of dust she became. 

Helen knew it was John. Ingrid had been exactly his type, would certainly be the sort of calling card he’d leave behind to let Helen know that he was one step ahead, that he was watching her and her Watcher and the work they were doing. Whatever Ingrid had set aside to show Will was long gone. There were signs of struggles back in the archives, the poor girl had tried to fight and Helen was proud of her. 

They found some empty shelves, the labels ripped off along with the items. 

“Take the laptop from her desk,” Helen said. “Maybe Henry can find what was supposed to be there.”

Will quietly and methodically packed it up while Helen snapped some pictures of the scene on her phone. She’d study them later, have Henry go over them, too. Maybe they could find something that she was too angry to see right now.

“Do you think that… when she sent us that map, do you think she was already…” Will shoved his hands into his pocket.

“I think this only happened last night. She was new,” Helen said. 

“But who?” he asked. 

“Who would hurt you to get to me?” she asked.

“John,” he answered. 

“John,” she said. 

He gave her a strange, worried look.

“What?” she said. 

“What if you can’t kill him,” Will asked. “Because you have a history?”

A small part of her respected his willingness to ask a hard question. But another part of her wanted to shake him. This was the first time in a long time she’d remembered how truly young he was. A child. A blip in the long stretch of her endless life. 

“If you think I’ve never had to kill someone that I’ve loved, then you know less about being a Slayer than I thought,” she said.

Better to be cruel now, to make him tough than to lose him because she’d spared his feelings. 

He just nodded, gave her his trust. Said simply, “Okay.”

oooo

Henry, Ashley, Kate and Will took the van to campus. Henry had been hoping for a snowfall bad enough that the campus closed, but apparently everyone had adapted to the miserable weather because January classes continued. 

They’d had to wait through the new year, had to wait for things on campus to start up again and Will could tell that Magnus was impatient for more information. Henry had managed to get into the laptop but needed to be physically close to the library in order to try to access their archival database of information.

“Ooh, a spot,” Ashley said, pointing and hitting Kate on the arm. 

“Jesus, I see it,” Kate said. She was driving the van. Apparently there had been an incident with Ashley and the van from before Will arrived that had her banned from driving it, though she wouldn’t talk about it and Henry only laughed when it was brought up. Will was more than happy to just ride in the back with Henry and Kate seemed capable of handling anything with wheels. She swung the van expertly around, cutting off a gray sedan who honked with displeasure. Kate gave them the finger and slid easily into the space.

“Nice,” Ashley said. Will couldn’t tell whether or not she was being sarcastic. He suspected not. 

“I hope this is close enough, Hank, because otherwise we might have to drive into the building,” Kate said.

“It’s fine,” Henry said, opening his laptop and plugging something into one of the USB ports on the side. The laptop beeped and started running a decryption program. Henry looked over to Ingrid’s laptop and nodded. “Yeah, it’s only gonna take a few minutes. This place ain’t exactly Fort Knox.” 

“Helen will be happy,” Will said. 

Henry glanced over at Ashley who just rolled her eyes. 

“What?” he said.

“Nothin’ man, nothin’,” Henry said. “So, any clue what I’m looking for?”

Will narrowed his eyes at the change of subject but went along with it. “An artifact, maybe? Something old. Hopefully something that helps us locate this so-called hellmouth.” 

Helen had started scanning the area around the Sanctuary, trying to penetrate deep below the ground, trying to find what they now suspected must be there. Will reasoned finding an entrance to hell wasn’t going to be as easy as finding a trap door under a rug. So far, Helen’s scans had been mostly inconclusive and their expeditions to below the SHU had led to mostly abandoned vampire nests and fetid water that led out to the dirty harbor. 

It was Kate who suggested scanning off the coast, under the water. But the weather was too treacherous to take Helen’s small boat out and they couldn’t fly a helicopter until the blizzard passed. 

“Aw yiss,” Henry said. “I think we’re in.” 

“Good, because I can’t believe this took four of us to accomplish,” Ashley complained.

“Maybe your mom just wanted to be left alone,” Kate said, chewing on her thumbnail cuticle. 

“We’re the brains, you’re the brawn,” Henry said.

“From what I understand, you’re plenty brawny, Professor Lupin,” Kate said, looking at Henry in the rear view mirror. 

“Very funny,” he muttered, typing away. “Okay, the last things catalogued were like a floppity billion textbooks.”

“Can you narrow it down to the things Ingrid would have cataloged herself?” Will asked. “She was the head of the library, she wouldn’t be doing grunt work.” 

“Smart,” Ashley said. 

“Okay, the last thing she cataloged was… huh,” Henry said. “I think that must be a typo?”

“Why?” Will said.

“It just says M-question mark. Or maybe M-ear?” Henry twisted the laptop so Will could see. The line said _mʔ_. 

“What the fuck does M-ear mean?” Kate asked. 

“It’s not an ear or a question mark,” Will said. “It’s a glottal stop.”

“Ah yes, that clears things up,” Ashley said sarcastically. 

“They’re not really used in English at the end of words like this,” Will said. “It’s more of a noise than… it doesn’t matter. Can you open the file? Is there a picture?”

“No pic, but there is a description. Metal and wood, pristine condition, approximately one meter in length, pointed wooden end, sharp adjustable blade, warm to the touch.” He shrugged. “That’s all it says.”

“It sounds like a weapon,” Ashley said. 

“It sounds awesome,” Kate agrees. “But warm?”

“Usually when things are warm there’s some magical property to it,” Will said. “It sounds like… I mean… I’m not sure. I need to look a few things up.”

“Nerd alert!” Ashley said. Apparently she was just here for commentary.

“Can you download all the info you can for us to take back?” Will asked. 

“Yeah, gimme just a few minutes,” Henry said. “Oh wait, there’s one more thing. It says it was found in southern Iceland and it supposed to be pretty old. Does that matter?”

Will watched Kate flick on the windshield wipers to brush the snow away.

“Yeah,” Will said. “It matters a lot.”

oooo

“I’ve heard about this,” Helen said, leaning over Will’s shoulder to peer down at the book. “But I always assumed it was lore. Wishful thinking, maybe.” She stared down at the illustration. “Seems a bit basic, honestly.”

“But let’s think about what we know,” Will said. “We know that your dream predicted this winter and pointed us to the Blake poem which led us to discover that at one time there was most likely an active volcano in Iceland.”

“Hekla,” Helen said. 

“And our research has told us that it was more likely than not a hellmouth,” Will said. “If the Mmm-”

“Oh, can’t we just call it the weapon? It looks like a scythe, can we call it a scythe?” she asked. 

“Very well,” he said. “If the scythe was found near Hekla…”

“Your Watcher history says that a weapon was forged for the Slayer by your predecessors, a weapon like this one and it’s been lost for hundreds and hundreds of years,” she said, tapping her nail against the illustration. 

“Buried in rock,” he said. “Which is, incidentally, what happens when volcanoes erupt or hellmouths collapse.” 

She tilted her head. 

“Think about the kind of power you’d need to activate a dormant hellmouth,” Will said. “You’d need something strong and something ancient. Like a weapon meant exclusively for a Slayer.” 

“I suppose if anyone were to be able to find and retrieve something like that, it’d be John,” she said.

“He could transport down there,” Will said. “He’d be strong enough to dig it out.” 

“But it’s not for him,” she said. “And if he was the one to go get it, how did it get into the hands of a university librarian?”

“Maybe he brought it in himself, or sent someone in for him,” she said. “Maybe he wanted to be sure it’s what he thought it was.” 

“Maybe,” Will said. “But there are dozens of people all over the world who could do that for him, that are imminently more qualified to do that than Ingrid was.”

“Like you, for instance,” Helen said. 

“I think he wanted you to know that he had it,” Will said. “And furthermore, I think he probably needs you to make it work.” 

Helen was quiet for a moment. She ran her finger along the illustration. 

“Yes,” she said finally. “I had that thought too.” 

“He has the scythe. If he finds the hellmouth and gets you, that’s all he needs to trigger… an apocalypse, I guess.” 

“It wouldn’t be good,” she agreed. “But Slayers have guarded active hellmouths before, Will. It’s more dangerous work, but it’s not the end of the world.”

“Do you think someone like John is going to open a door and then not take a look at what’s on the other side?” he asked. 

She pressed her lips together. “We need to find that hellmouth,” she said. “We need to find it before he does.”

“What if he’s already found it?” Will asked. “What if he has the hellmouth and the scythe and all he needs is you?”

“It’s a risk I have to take,” she said.

“It’s a risk he knows you’ll take,” Will countered. “Why try to get to you when he knows you’re going to waltz right over to where he needs you to be?”

“What would you have me do, Will?” she asked. “Keep letting him terrorize the city? Killing women, hurting the people I love?”

“No,” he said, as calmly as he could manage. “But I want us to be sensible. Come up with a plan that has a chance of succeeding. I don’t want you running off half cocked.” 

She nodded. Gave him a tense smile and said, “You know, for someone who works for me, you order me around quite a bit.” 

“I like to think of it as a partnership myself,” he said. “But Helen, the last thing I want is for you to get hurt. You can understand that right? Maybe it’s selfish, but… before I came here I always felt rather adrift and now… this is how it’s meant to be, I think.”

He shook his head, embarrassed. 

“I understand,” she said. “When I got word you were coming, I was one hundred percent certain I’d send you away but then when you arrived, I couldn’t for some reason.” 

Will was glad they were alone in the library so no one was around to see him getting emotional over his Slayer. He’d read dozens of Watcher’s journals in his time and nearly all of them spent long passages waxing poetic about their Slayer. About her beauty and grace, her sharp mind and strong body. The bond they felt, the love that grew inside of them. It was always a little much in Will’s opinion, often times he felt it possibly bordered on the inappropriate but now he felt foolish about his judgement. Because if he had a paper journal to fill, he’d happily fill its pages talking about Helen. Her strength, her wisdom, her beauty. Helen, his reason for being. Helen, his perfect match. Helen, his Slayer, his love.

He stood up, closed the book. 

“Let’s have some tea,” he said. She nodded and then, somewhat surprisingly, leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek. 

“We’ll look for the hellmouth and we’ll carefully plan from there,” she said softly. “All right?”

“All right,” he said.

oooo

Helen woke up to the alarm klaxons. She hadn’t been sleeping particularly well as of late so it seemed cruel, now, to be woken up only a couple hours into her rest by the ear piercing alarm and flashing light that went with it.

She got out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown, and opened her bedroom door. Will was already outside of it holding a stunner and a stake for her. 

She took them; the stake warmed in her hand.

She had a panel just inside her door and she glanced at it.

“The SHU,” she said. “Something has escaped its enclosure.” 

They met Kate in the lift, by the time she made it down, Ashley and Henry were already there, and her old friend. 

“Here,” Henry said, showing her his tablet. “One of the aquatic tanks.”

“What failed?” she asked. 

“Nothing,” he said. “None of our systems anyway, but look.” He pointed across the huge room and she could see that the water level was dangerously low.

“It’s draining?” she said. 

“Something blew a hole in it,” Kate said. 

“Came up through the underground canal,” Ashley said. “Water will drain out to the bay.”

“Which abnormal?” Will asked.

“The Hippocamp,” Biggie said. “Extremely docile.”

“Worth anything on the black market?” asked Kate.

“No,” Helen said. “Perhaps to a collector but certainly not worth this kind of trouble.”

“And there are easier ways to get one than stealing from a Sanctuary,” Ashley said. 

“Can you track it?” Helen asked Henry.

“Yeah, I’ll try,” he said. “It’s tagged but the system is having trouble picking up its signal.” 

“Ashley, you and Kate go assess the damage,” Helen said. “I’m going to let the network know we’ve had a theft.”

“Can we take Dumbledore?” Ashley asked, grabbing Will’s arm. “In case we run into any bad juju down there?”

Helen saw Will hesitate, look at her. She knew he didn’t want to let Helen out of his sight. 

“I’ll stay with her,” the big guy told him. He nodded. 

Helen rolled her eyes. 

“And can someone silence the alarm, please,” she said. “Henry, when you find the signal, please take a headcount and make sure no one else is missing.” 

“Got it,” he said. 

By the time Helen and the big guy reached her office, the alarm had gone quiet but the emergency light was still flickering above. 

“Druitt damaged that tank,” the big guy said. 

“Yes,” she said. “Probably.”

“Henry will track that signal right to where he’s waiting,” the big guy said. 

She tilted her head. There was a high possibility of that, yes. John was smart and capable but he’d never been very patient. 

“Magnus,” the big guy said, warily.

“It’s out of my hands, now,” she said. “We can’t ignore it any longer.”

He just grunted. Waited with her while she made her calls. 

When she was finished he said, “What about Will?”

“He’s my Watcher, he’ll do as I say,” she said. 

“I don’t doubt that,” he said. “I meant, though, what do you want us to do with him if you don’t come back? We haven’t included him in the contingency plan yet.” 

“He’s one of us now,” Helen said softly. “If he wants to stay, I say let him stay.”

“He won’t want to stay here without you,” he said. 

“No,” Helen agreed. “He probably won’t.”

oooo

It wasn’t easy to get to the underside of the tank where the damage was. They had to find an access point to the city sewer system and climb down a manhole. The metal ladder rungs were slippery and Will was surprised he made it down into one piece. Ashley held a huge flashlight, Kate a map of the sewage tunnels pulled up on a tablet. 

It got them back to the edge of the Sanctuary’s property line but the map didn’t include anything under the Sanctuary so, they had to hunt around a bit, but the girls together were expert trackers. Will just followed blindly along hoping that the above ground security was tight enough to keep his Slayer safe. 

They knew they were getting close when they could smell whatever accelerant had been used to cause the explosion still in the air. 

“Plastic explosive,” Ashley said. “C-4 probably.” 

“Is that hard to get?” Will asked

“No,” Kate said. “Could mean they’re military.”

“Yeah, those guys don’t care for us,” Ashley agreed. “Mom always figures out ways around laws and stuff, makes the govvie guys nuts.” 

Will thought it was probably a different man who was nuts but held his tongue.

“And rubble. Here we go,” Kate said, kicking a broken piece of concrete out of the way with her boot. 

And here, it did smell more like an aquarium. There was the debris of the explosion but also the contents of the enclosure. Plant life, rocks, what looked to be a piece of coral reef.

“Like, of all the shit to steal,” Kate said, looking around. “Anyone remotely close to the blast site would have been knocked over, probably gone deaf for a bit and if that didn’t get them, the water would have washed them out to sea with the fish horse.” 

“Hippocamp,” Will corrected.

“Oh my god, _whatever_ ,” Kate said.

“Maybe it was remotely activated?” Will said.

“Even down here, the EM shield would prevent that, or at least make it sketchy as hell,” Ashley said shaking her head. “I guess it could have been on a timer.” 

“We might find debris of that mechanism but,” Kate said with a shrug. “Does it matter?”

The walkie talkie at Ashley’s hip let out a garbled stream of static. She glanced down at it. “That’s probably Henry. We should go back up.” 

It was faster getting back to the manhole now that they knew where they were going. Will let the girls climb back to the surface first and then ascending himself, very carefully. He was happy to be out of the sewer, emerged and found his feet just to hear Henry say over the walkie talkie, “I have a fix on the Hippocamp.” 

“Roger,” Ashley said. “We’re coming home now.” 

oooo

Helen in her leather, loaded down with weaponry. A sight that filled him with both wonder and dread. 

The big guy was getting the boat ready, despite the choppy water and the rain. By the time the group was back together, Will knew it was too late for him to talk her out of it. So he didn’t try.

“I’m an experienced diver,” he said. “I’m coming, too.” 

She didn’t hesitate and he was grateful for it. She just nodded. Whether it was because she took him at his word and knew he’d be an asset or because she knew she ultimately wouldn’t be able to shake him, he didn’t know and he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let her go off to face whatever was coming alone no matter what. 

The motorboat was on the smaller side, though it did boast a tiny indoor cabin space. Will navigated the boat with the sasquatch next to him, hunched over so his head didn’t touch the ceiling. Helen stood on the deck with her scanner, following the signal of the Hippocamp. Will could barely make her out through the rain on the windshield, but the big guy watched her carefully, made adjustments to their course. Will wasn’t sure if they were communicating with tech he couldn’t see or if he could see her movements better than Will. 

He’d learned with Helen, it could be anything. The closer he grew to her, the less he seemed to know. 

Just as Will was starting to get well and truly unsettled about how far out they were going, Helen put her arm up, fist high into the sky and the big guy cut the engine. The boat rocked in the choppy water. When Helen came in, her tablet, wrapped in a clear plastic bag, was beeping and she was soaked to the skin, her dark hair drenched, her bangs flat against her forehead. Her mascara was running down her cheeks. 

“Should be right below us. Doesn’t seem to be moving.”

“You think it’s dead?” the big guy grunted.

Helen wiped her face, pushed the hair back out of her eyes. “Yes,” she said. She sounded resigned. 

“Then this isn’t a rescue mission,” Will pointed out. “He’s down there. He’s waiting for you.” 

Helen shrugged out of her coat, let it fall with a wet noise to the floor.

“We need the scuba gear,” she said to the big guy.

“Helen,” Will said. 

“It’s not up to you, Dr. Zimmerman,” she said, sharply. 

“Let me go first,” he said. “Let me scout it out. Give me an hour.” 

“You don’t want to lose me, so what makes you think I’m willing to sacrifice you?” she asked. 

“I’m not the Slayer, I’m just a Watcher,” he said.

“Yes, but you’re _my_ Watcher,” she said. “We’ll go together. We’ll be careful - we can strap weapons to…” 

A loud crack and a bright flash. The lightning surprised them all, Helen’s sentence went unfinished and she spun.

“It hit the Sanctuary,” said the big guy. 

“God,” Helen said. “Knocked out the EM shield, I’d wager. This day is really climbing up my bad day list. We’re into double digits now.” 

“You think it’s an accident?” the big guy asked. 

“After so much inclement rain and snow, I find it doubtful,” she said. She pulled the cushion off a bench and lifted the wooden lid of a compartment. Started pulling out scuba gear. Will caught the wetsuit she threw at him. “We need to hurry.” 

“What kind of abnormal controls the weather?” Will asked, watching Helen shuck clothing. He reached for the button at his collar. 

“They’re out there,” Helen said. “But I think in this case, I’d defer to your lot.”

The big guy grunted, a noise of disgust. “Magicians. Big spells require lots of power. Power drains screw up weather patterns.” 

“Hey,” he said, focusing on his own clothing now that Helen was mostly in underthings. He turned away slightly. “I just dabble.” 

“Watchers have always dabbled,” she said, shivering now. “That’s how we got in this mess in the first place. Either practice or don’t. Don’t doom a whole lineage of women and then skulk back into the shadows to let them clean up your mess.” 

Will wisely said nothing. 

“Try to reach Ashley while we’re gone,” Helen said to the big guy now. “Make sure they’re okay. If we don’t come back, they’re going to want to come after us. Please don’t let them.”

He grunted, a noise that meant neither agreement or disagreement. 

oooo

The water was cold, even through the wetsuits, and their progress was slow because they were weighed down with gear. Helen had transferred their location to their wetsuits which came with a computer interface built into the arm. He wasn’t even surprised at the advanced technology he found anymore. 

They swam down slowly, their beams of light doing very little to light their way. Helen looked more at her arm than ahead of her. More than once he reached out to grab at her, stop her from swimming into a tangle of plants or once, what looked like a sheer face of rock. They stopped swimming completely, he tried to see her eyes, wide and bright blue in the beam of his light, her iris dark pinpricks. She pointed to the rock emphatically. Whatever they were looking for was on the other side. He pointed up questioningly. She shook her head and pointed down.

So they descended more, their hands against the stone, searching and searching until all at once, Helen seemed to slip away from him and disappear. 

He tried not to panic, sweeping his light back and forth, looking for any sign of her. He was just trying to decide whether or not he should head for the surface when her light reappeared several meters deeper than he was. He swam toward it. When he got to her, he saw she’d found an opening in the rock. Narrow, but wide enough for them to swim into. 

The uneasy feeling peaked into fear, but he gamely followed her into the pitch black tunnel. Tried hard to regulate his breathing, to keep it even. 

The rock seemed to press down at him. He glanced at his interface; it glowed a sickly green. His oxygen was still three quarters of the way full and they were deep but not at the deepest depth he’d ever dived. The cold was uncomfortable but not debilitating. He could keep going and he would. He wouldn’t leave her alone. 

The tunnel they were in seemed to narrow so much that he could feel the rock on either side, scraping at his neoprene suit. Helen was smaller than him but not by much and she had slowed down as well, moving inch by inch. What happened if it narrowed so much they couldn’t move forward? Swimming out backward would not be easy. 

Helen stopped completely. She seemed to move a little, like she was better positioning herself, and then she started swimming up. The tunnel had, in fact, come to an end but opened up above them. He followed her kicking legs until it started getting lighter.

And then he broke the surface of the water. 

Helen spit out her mouthpiece. With their flashlights, it was light enough that he could see her lips were tinged blue. He tread water, spit his mouthpiece out too and breathed in the stale air.

“An underground cavern,” she said. He couldn’t hear well with the hood of the wetsuit over his ears, but he could read her lips well enough. They shone their light beams around in sweeping arcs, but detail was hard to make out. 

As nervous as he was about what she was going to have to face, he was glad she was here. He was constantly amazed at her tenacity, her intelligence, her determination to see things through. He would have never found the opening to the tunnel, would have never braved the entire thing by himself. She was better, smarter, stronger and knowing her made him those things, too. At least, it made him determined to try to match the bar she set, even if it took him his whole life.

“Helen,” he said, wanting to tell her to be careful. But she wasn’t looking at him so she didn’t hear him. Instead was looking around them and then, swimming toward shallower water. 

He followed her and was relieved when he felt the ground with his feet. His thighs burned and he was happy not to tread water.

What must they look like, crawling onto shore, tired and unbalanced because of their tanks, the covered sword at her hip dragging in the silt. He had stakes and a knife. No stunners, no guns. 

Helen got to her feet first, pulled off her goggles and secured them to a loop on her suit. Pushed off the hood and shook out her hair. He did the same. As soon as his ears were uncovered, he felt more himself.

“If there’s a hellmouth, it’s here somewhere,” she said softly. Her voice still bounced off the rock and the water. 

“Do you have any signal down here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “None. We’re on our own.”

He swallowed, nodded. 

“You’re more than often I have,” she said, kicking off the flippers. “I’ll do my best to keep you safe, but I can’t do it at the expensive of the greater good.” A gentle warning.

“I’d be disappointed if you did,” he said. “I’d have to spend my afterlife haunting you, making tutting noises.” 

“I’m immortal,” she said. “That’s a lot of tutting.”

He smiled at her. She grinned back. A small bit of relief that buoyed them both. 

Another sweep of their beams showed only one way to go, really, so they followed the path, moving at a pace that felt fast, but probably wasn’t. They’d had to abandon their flippers and walking with nothing but the neoprene booties left him feeling quite vulnerable. They’d left their tanks, too. Too heavy to carry with the weapons, too burdensome. It felt a little foolish, but he knew what Helen would say. That stopping the threat was more important than worrying about their safety or an escape route. 

They found the Hippocamp, though it took a few grisly seconds to understand what it was they were looking at, exactly. It had been massacred, flayed and hollowed out. The stench was awful. 

“They’re so docile,” Helen said. “There’s no reason to do this.”

“He’s doing it to hurt you,” Will said. “And to show you you’re on the right path.” 

He didn’t need to explain to her what she already knew, but there was some power in saying it out loud. 

She said nothing and they moved past the dead creature. 

It was gradual, but eventually it lightened enough to turn off their flashlights. 

“Smoke,” Helen said softly. “I think we’re close.” She unsheathed her sword. He slipped stake into his hand. It felt ridiculous, knowing what he knew of John Druitt, but it felt equally as ridiculous to be holding nothing. He clenched tightly at the smooth wood. 

A bend around a jagged outcropping of rock and then the tunnel seemed to open up into another large cavern. Larger than the one they swam up in, dryer too. It was smoky and hot and hard to see. There were several torches driven into the wall. Vampires could see in the darkness, vampires didn't need to breathe. The fire was for their benefit.

John spotted them first, his voice rang out through the chamber, sent a chill up Will’s spine, sent his stomach churning and he broke out into a sweat.

“Helen!” John cried. “Better late than never, I suppose.”

There torches were low, none higher than Will's waist and they lit everything from below. It took Will several moments to locate John, high above them on an outcropping of rock. 

And next to him, bound at his feet, Ashley and Kate, unconscious.

oooo

Helen told herself that John wouldn’t hurt his own daughter, surely wouldn’t kill her for whatever maniacal cause he was after, but she knew this to be untrue. John felt no remorse, he had no voice inside of him to tell him to stop. He had only revenge and pain and whatever possessed him.

She saw the moment Will spotted him. She’d been able to feel his presence for sometime, since they stepped over the mangled carcass of her abnormal. Maybe it was the demon that made the signal so easy to read. A demon and an abnormal in one lit her up like a parade. 

She stepped forward, her eyes stinging and said, “I’m what you want, John. Not them. Let them go.” 

“Let them go?” he called jovially. “I went to all the trouble of knocking out your electromagnetic shield just to get them! Why ever would I let them go?”

Will nudged her, pointed down instead of up. The earth had been dug up to reveal a metal circle covered in demonic symbols. It told her two things - that there was, in fact, a hellmouth beneath her Sanctuary and at some point, someone had sealed it up once before.

Possibly her own father. 

John flickered out of sight and reappeared standing on the metal circle, holding her scythe. He had left the girls up high above, alone. 

“I think we should open it,” he said, very softly now. “See what spills out.”

“I can’t let you do that, John,” Helen said. “You know that.” 

“I have everything I need,” John said. “A weapon forged for a Slayer, the Slayer herself.” He looked over at Will. “A magician to facilitate the spell.”

“No way,” Will said. 

“Yes way,” John said, and raised the scythe high into the air.

Helen was faster, raised her sword to block his blow and the metal clanged together loudly. 

John laughed, loud and cruel, withdrew the weapon and held up a hand. “But I had a better idea. It’s a pity to open a hellmouth and kill you, Helen. I want you to be around to see the hell that is unleashed.”

“Oh?” she asked.

Up high above him, she could see Kate start to stir. 

“Besides, your blood is as tainted as mine is, Helen,” he said. “Abnormal blood. What young fools we were then, all those many years ago.”

“Reckless,” Helen agreed. She glanced at Will. He saw the girls moving, too.

“But I think I came up with a radical solution that will work just as well.”

He turned, suddenly, pointed the scythe at Kate and Ashley. Kate froze. 

“A potential and the daughter of a Slayer!” John said merrily. “Crack them together, it’s practically the same as you!” 

In a flash, he was back up with them. He held the scythe in his mouth with his teeth against the wooden handle and grabbed both Kate and Ashley by the hair. Slammed their heads together. It made a terrible sound and they both cried out. 

Another flash and he brought them down to the seal. 

Kate looked woozy again, Ashley was still mostly out of it and had a trickle of blood running down her temple. The smell of it got to John and brought the demon out onto his face. His eyes were yellow and he licked at his teeth. 

“Am I not your type like this, Helen? Not the first vampire you let between your legs, I’d wager.” 

“Still jealous after all these years?” she asked lightly. “Pathetic.” 

“Helen,” Will said, a warning. He thought she ought not to be egging him on but her daughter was bleeding, her employees in mortal danger. She was through standing around chatting about things. 

“You’d kill your own flesh and blood to hurt me?” she said now, loudly. “Your own daughter, John, and for what? For spite?”

Kate looked confused, looking at Ashley and back at Helen. 

“For you?” John said, the demon slipping off his face. “For you, what wouldn’t I do?”

“Then let them go,” Will cried. 

John turned to look at him, narrowed his eyes. “And you, Watcher? Would you trade your life for theirs? For hers?”

Will didn’t hesitate, which was admirable.

“Of course,” he said. 

“Oh goody,” John replied. "Just what I'd hoped you would say." 

oooo

Will felt foolish.

As it turned out, it wasn’t just the Slayer John had needed, but a magician as well. He’d needed the Slayer and the Watcher, the matched set. Will had been so consumed with worrying about Helen that he’d completely neglected to factor himself into the equation. The scythe had always been in Iceland, a ripe cherry to be picked for one who knew its location. And John had always known that Helen was the Slayer, her location solitary for decades. So why wait until now?

Because Will had come. The last piece of the puzzle. Will the watcher, the magician, the perfect match for Helen, blessed by the gods. 

The scythe gleamed in his hands. 

Will glanced at Helen, hoping she had a plan because he certainly didn’t. 

“The girls first,” Helen was saying firmly, one of Will’s stakes firmly in her hand. Where had she been stowing that? It didn’t even seem to be waterlogged. “If they’re safe, we’ll give you whatever you need.” 

A promise Will preferred she not make, frankly, but he trusted her instincts. This was easily the biggest situation they’d gotten themselves into so far. Bigger than getting locked in their own facility, bigger than mistaking a demon for an abnormal, bigger than facing down the council. For the first time, he realized that he was probably going to die. 

But if his death would save his Slayer, he absolutely would be willing to make that sacrifice. 

John nodded at Helen, slowly. “All right, my love.” 

He reached out and grabbed at Kate’s hair.

“Hey, you stupid bald piece of shit, get your hands off of me,” Kate snapped but in a moment he’d put them back up on the stone shelf and come back down, feet on the seal, scythe in his hands. 

“Come to me, Helen,” he said. “Just like old times.”

“That scythe,” Helen said. “That belongs to me.” 

Will dropped to the ground, crawled away to get out of the way of the fight. Staying out of the way was the best thing he could do to help right now. He’d gotten a good look at that seal while John had been posturing and it was covered with symbols of death. He had a pretty good idea of what it would want - blood. 

Helen came flying back, landed hard on the packed dirt. Sprang up again and ran back at John. 

On the shelf above, Kate was helping Ashley to her feet. She’d broken free of her bonds and had freed Ashley as well. Ashley looked a little dazed and even from the distance that he was at, he could see that the gash on her head was still bleeding. 

Kate met his eye, gave a shrug. What did Will want her to do? 

Ashley braced herself against the wall of rock and peered down at the fight.

John still had his chest plate on, still had the scythe. At best, they two of them were in a holding pattern. And while it would take a long time for Helen to get tired, she would tire and she’d tire first. 

Will made a finger gun at Kate but she shook her head. No stunner, no gun. 

Ashley said something to Kate who shook her head. Ashley looked down again. 

Helen managed to get a good kick in, but John didn’t fall. 

Above them, Kate shouted something. It sounded like she was saying Ashley’s name. And a moment later, he understood why as Ashley fell from the ledge down toward the seal. 

Will could see Helen lunge forward but Ashley still hit the ground hard. Will felt it immediately, felt it first maybe. A wave of something familiar and powerful and old. Magic. The seal was waking up. Will got to his feet, looked at Ashley. He could see her blood pooling on the metal and then, as the he blinked, the blood seeped into the seal and disappeared. 

Will could feel something else, too. He could feel Helen’s anger, radiating off of her in waves. Ashley’s fall had kicked her up into the stratosphere, he’d never seen her move so cleanly or so fast. She started landing more blows. Drove John back off the seal, onto the dirt. 

Will acted quickly, darting toward Ashley’s crumpled form. She looked pale, her head was gashed, feeding the seal a steady trickle of blood. He hoped that whatever her mother had passed along to her was not enough to do more than tickle the underbelly of the beast. Disturb it, but not wake it completely. 

He slid an arm under Ashley and lifted. She was heavier than she looked, solid muscle and bone. She could probably kick his ass and not break a sweat. He struggled to get the weight of her over the sandy lip of the seal. 

From above him, he heard Kate shout something that sounded like “Doc!” Whether it was for him or for Helen, he couldn’t say, but he looked up all the same, just in time to see Helen wrap her hand around the scythe. 

Something changed in her, something lit her from within. She was drawing power from the weapon. Her eyes blazed bright and hot and she kicked John in the metal plate on his chest and he went flying back into Will. 

Pain blossomed in his gut. John recovered quickly, leapt back to his feet. Helen had the scythe now, the upper hand as well. 

And what did Will have at the pivotal moment of the fight? The Slayer’s daughter in one arm and his own stake in his gut. John’s blow had dislodged the stake from where he'd attached it to his hip and jammed in into stomach. He let Ashley fall back to the seal though he hadn’t mean to. He wrapped his hand around the smooth wood, so smooth that it moved a little. Just a little. Just enough that a drop of his own blood dripped down the slippery neoprene of his wet suit and fell onto the seal. 

oooo

Helen needed to reach out to the Watchers Council soon. A chore she had been putting off, making up little excuses for herself. Not until Ashley regained consciousness, not until Will was out of the woods. Not until the SHU was fixed, not until they figured out a plan of action. 

But Ashley had finally woken the night before and Will was staving off infection and would be coming around any time. Repair crews had started on the damaged enclosure, the city notified about the damage to the sewers beneath her property. 

And finally, the weather had turned. The skies had cleared, the temperature had risen enough to melt the ice and return to a standard temperature for February. Helen’s mind was already at work, devising a way to map the area around the seal, to chart the waters, to get greater access. 

They’d need it, now. 

She rose from her desk chair, drained the last tepid tea from her cup and left it on the silver tray for her old friend to collect when he did his evening rounds. She pulled on her sweater - it was always cooler underground. Made her way down the corridor to the lift, her heels thudding dully on the carpet. The lift took her down swiftly. She bypassed the SHU completely, made her way to the medical bay. 

When she entered, Ashley was awake with a bowl of broth on her tray. She still had sutures in her temple but Helen had done them herself and they wouldn’t scar. Ashley healed well anyhow. Not slayer healing, but better than average. She already had her color back, would be on her feet in no time. 

Had already started asking questions. Helen could wave them off for a bit longer, anyhow. 

“He’s still out,” Ashley said, answering the question Helen hadn’t yet asked. 

“So I see,” Helen said softly, leaning her hip against his bed. She reached out to touch the back of his hand. Warm and dry. He’d been lucky. The stakes he'd made for her were much shorter than the ones she’d used to order by the crate. It had missed his major organs, was an easy fix. It was the infection that they'd had to get in front of but he was past it now. 

“Shall I leave you two alone?” Ashley asked, peering up from beneath her fringe.

“Stop that,” Helen said lightly. “He’s just a boy.” 

“Mmmhmm,” Ashley said, bringing the spoon to her lips and slurping loudly. 

Helen ignored her, perched on the edge of Will's bed and took both of his hands into hers, mindful of his IV and pulse oximeter. “I’m going to give his healing a little Slayer boost, that’s all.”

She needed to call the Watchers Council, but she’d really prefer Will to do so with her. To be right at her side where he belonged. 

oooo

When Will woke up, he realized right away that he wasn't in his own bed and that he was not alone. He could see Ashley asleep in the bed next to him, curled up in a way that suggested she was actually asleep and not simply unconscious. 

And then, there at his side, Helen. She was in a chair, slumped forward on the side of the bed. He reached out and rested his fingers against the crown of her head and stroked her silky hair until she stirred. 

Her makeup was smudged, she looked tired. She looked like she’d been in a bad fight. Like maybe her whole life had been a bad fight. 

“Hello,” she whispered. 

“Hi,” he said. He managed a small smile. 

She smiled back, swiped at her cheeks, let out a big breath in one relieved huff. 

oooo

“No, not open,” Helen said. “But certainly no longer dormant.”

She had the Board of Elders up on a Skype call. There was a big screen down in the SHU and he and Helen were standing in front of the most important members of the Watchers Council. She’d mostly been scolding them. 

“But I thought this demon, this John Druitt went through the open seal,” Travers said over the rim of his glasses, peering down at, no doubt, Will's report.

“He did, unfortunately, escape,” Will said. “But you and I both know that the only way to close an open seal is to sacrifice a human life. John Druitt going through the open seal wasn’t enough to close it but Kate Freelander, a member of our staff here, went after him and her sacrifice closed the open door.”

“She was a potential,” one of the board members said from the back of the room. 

“So she’s dead?” Travers asked. 

“I pray that she is,” Helen said softly. “I pray for her soul, gentlemen.” 

“The hellmouth is no longer an open portal to a hell dimension,” Will said. “But it’s not dormant. The thing is awake and releasing enough energy that we’re picking it up on our instruments here. Real data.”

“We’ve received similar reports from across the globe,” Travers confirmed.

“Things are going to get more dangerous here. More violent. Attract more demonic energy than ever before. We’re going to need more help and it’s your job to provide it,” Helen said. “I’ll keep Dr. Zimmerman on as my Watcher here, but I’d like to, at the very least, be able to farm out some of our critical research needs to your staff.” 

“My god,” Travers said, not quite acknowledging Helen's request. “An active hellmouth.” 

“And my home is right on top of it, Quentin,” Helen said. “Time for you to prove your worth to me, don’t you think?”

Someone else spoke up, another board member. Said, “We’d like very much to study that scythe.”

“I have guest quarters,” Helen said. “You can arrange any visits with my household staff. The scythe stays here. It belongs to me.”

Travers sputtered but Helen ended the call and the screen went blank.

Behind them, Ashley, the big guy, and Henry all started to clap and hoot.

“Good job, mom,” Ashley said. “You too, Dumbledore.” 

“Thanks,” he said. Helen reached out, squeezed his fingers. 

“We’re in this together now, aren’t we Dr. Zimmerman,” she said lightly, though it was not a question, not at all. 

“In it to win it, Dr. Magnus,” he assured her.

“Oh my _god_ , get a room,” Ashley said. 

There were, of course, still a lot of unanswered questions. A more tangible partnership with the Watchers Council meant more people on their doorstep, more honesty required, more interaction than the Council had gotten out of the Slayer in a hundred years. Will could help with that, could be the bridge between worlds and spend time teasing the best out of both parties. 

Helen was feeling the loss of Kate rather deeply, he feared. They all were, but Helen felt responsible for the girl’s death, Helen felt as if she’d shoved her through the hellmouth herself. She didn’t talk about it, but Will could tell. He could feel the waves of guilt and grief coming off of her. Had made one aside about it the day Will woke up, had said, “I do this so that the potentials live.” 

So he’d work on that too. Provide her comfort, a shoulder or an ear. Companionship. Love. He’d be her therapist and her confidant and her best friend. He’d give her anything, anything at all. 

And there was still John Druitt. Momentarily stymied but hardly defeated, sure to be as mad as a hornet and gaining some sort of hellish abilities. Will didn’t look forward to seeing him again but he was certain he would. 

Will wondered if Helen was going to tell Ashley that Druitt was her father, but only Kate had been conscious for that revelation and the secret had died with her. Will wouldn’t tell Ashley without her mother’s permission and he wouldn’t push Helen to do so before she was ready. He brought it up only once more, later that evening. He said, “You ought to tell her before he shows up again. You’ll not get this reprieve twice, I imagine.”

“I imagine not,” she whispered. “I’ll do so in time, Will. In my own time.” 

He nodded. “All right.”

“Will you walk me to my room?” she asked. “It’s late and we could both use the rest if we want to tackle this new patrol schedule of yours.” 

So he escorted from her office, up a level, down the long hallway to her rooms. She thanked him. Leaned in and kissed his cheek. 

“Goodnight, Watcher,” she said. 

“Goodnight, Slayer,” he’d replied. “Until sunrise?”

“Until then,” she agreed.

He made his way back to his own room. He was tired, but he wanted to make a few more stakes for her before he went to sleep so they'd be well stocked for their next patrol. He'd carve in protection spells into the wood, he'd coat the tips with his own blood to make them stronger, make her aim more true. He'd bleed himself dry for his Slayer. This wasn't just her town anymore, it was theirs. He felt compelled to protect not only her but the place as well. From demons, from vampires, from evil of any sort that decided to come into their orbit.

Or come back.

He jotted down a few notes in his Watchers diary before he finally gave into sleep. Wrote about the stakes, wrote about the new patrolling schedule they were going to kick off to keep up with the additional threat an active hellmouth offered. He wrote about Helen, her strong body, her pure heart, her beauty and brains and bravery. He read back over his words and rolled his eyes at how sappy they sounded.

Imagine that. A true watcher after all.


End file.
